UC-NRLF 


B    3    S7b 


CHRISTMAS  NIGHT 
IN  THE  QUARTERS 

AND  OTHER  POEMS 


Balance  all! — now,   step  out   rightly" 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 
IN   THE  QUARTERS 

AND  OTHER  POEMS 
BY 

IRWIN  RUSSELL 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION   BY 

JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS 

AND  AN   HISTORICAL  SKETCH  BY 

MAURICE  GARLAND  FULTON 

ILLUSTRATED  BY 

E.  W.   KEMBLE 


NEW  YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 

1917 


Copyright,  1888,  1917,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 


I 


EDITOR'S  NOTE 

In  my  editorial  work  on  this  book,  I  am  chiefly 
indebted  to  Miss  Mary  Elizabeth  Russell  of  Los 
Angeles,  California.  She  has  not  only  placed  at 
my  disposal  valuable  manuscript  material  left  by 
her  brother,  Irwin  Russell,  but  she  has  furnished 
important  biographical  information,  thus  making 
it  possible  to  put  straight  several  matters  which 
have  been  confused  in  other  sketches  of  the  poet. 

I  am  also  largely  indebted  to  Mrs.  Maggie 
Williams  Musgrove  of  Port  Gibson,  Mississippi, 
who  has  placed  all  lovers  of  Irwin  Russell  under 
obligations  by  her  faithfulness  in  gathering  recol 
lections  of  him  from  those  who  knew  him  per 
sonally  in  his  native  town.  I  have  derived  much 
help  from  articles  by  those  who  in  the  past  have 
been  interested  enough  in  making  the  work  of 

Russell  better  known  to  write  about  him.     Espe- 

vii 


M170823 


SS:S§§§?5§§§§^^^^M 

EDITOR'S  NOTE 

cially  should  I  mention  several  recent  articles  by 
Professor  Alfred  Allen  Kern  of  Millsaps  Col 
lege,  Jackson,  Mississippi. 

Of  the  new  poems  appearing  in  this  volume; 
'The  Mocking-Bird,"  "Summer  Idyllers"  and 
"Pot-liquor"  are  from  Russell's  unpublished 

manuscript;  "Ships  from  the  Sea"  and  "Dat  Pe- 

. 
ter"   first   appeared   in   local   newspapers   of   the 

poet's  home  town;  "The  Kingdom  Gate"  and 
"Uncle  Caleb's  Views"  were  found  in  the  files  of 
The  New  Orleans  Times;  and  "A  Mississippi 
Miracle"  was  printed  originally  in  Puck. 

M.  G.  F. 
Davidson  College, 
Davidson,  N.  C. 


via 
' 


INTRODUCTION 

THERE  are  books  that  are  written  and  pub 
lished  with  high  hopes  and  ambitious  long 
ings,  but  this  volume  is  in  the  nature  of  a  memo 
rial  to  its  author.  It  represents  the  results  of 
the  brief  literary  career  of  IRWIN  RUSSELL,  of 
Mississippi,  who  was  born  at  Port  Gibson,  Missis 
sippi,  on  the  3d  of  June,  1853,  and  who  died  at 
New  Orleans  on  the  23d  of  December,  1879. 

He  possessed,  in  a  remarkable  degree,  what  has 
been  described  as  the  poetical  temperament,  and 
though  he  was  little  more  than  twenty-six  years 
old  at  the  time  of  his  death,  his  sufferings  and  his 
sorrows  made  his  life  a  long  one.  He  had  at  his 
command  everything  that  affection  could  suggest ; 
he  had  loyal  friends  wherever  he  went;  but,  in 
spite  of  all  this,  the  waywardness  of  genius  led 
continually  in  the  direction  of  suffering  and  sor- 


IX 


INTRODUCTION 

row.  In  the  rush  and  hurly-burly  of  the  practi 
cal,  every-day  world,  he  found  himself  helpless; 
and  so,  after  a  brief  struggle,  he  died. 

IRWIN  RUSSELL  was  among  the  first — if  not 
the  very  first — of  Southern  writers  to  appreciate 
the  literary  possibilities  of  the  negro  character, 
and  of  the  unique  relations  existing  between  the 
two  races  before  the  war,  and  was  among  the  first 
to  develop  them.  The  opinion  of  an  uncritical 
mind  ought  not  to  go  for  much,  but  it  seems  to  me 
that  some  of  IRWIN  RUSSELL'S  negro-character 
studies  rise  to  the  level  of  what,  in  a  large  way, 
we  term  literature.  His  negro  operetta,  "Christ 
mas-Night  in  the  Quarters,"  is  inimitable.  It 
combines  the  features  of  a  character  study  with  a 
series  of  bold  and  striking  plantation  pictures  that 
have  never  been  surpassed.  In  this  remarkable 
group, — if  I  may  so  term  it, — the  old  life  before 

the  war  is  reproduced  with  a  fidelity  that  is  mar- 

, 
velous. 

But  the  most  wonderful  thing  about  the  dialect 


INTRODUCTION 

poetry  of  IRWIN  RUSSELL  is  his  accurate  concep 
tion  of  the  negro  character.  The  dialect  is  not 
always  the  best, — it  is  often  carelessly  written,— 
but  the  negro  is  there,  the  old-fashioned,  unadul 
terated  negro,  who  is  still  dear  to  the  Southern 
heart.  There  is  no  straining  after  effect — indeed, 
the  poems  produce  their  result  by  indirection;  but 
I  do  not  know  where  could  be  found  to-day  a  hap 
pier  or  a  more  perfect  representation  of  negro 
character. 

JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS. 


§ 


XI 


IRWIN  RUSSELL 

To  the  brief  but  generous  introduction  by  Joel 
Chandler  Harris,  which  accompanied  the  first  edition 
of  Irwin  Russell's  poems,  and  which  is  appropriately 
retained  in  this  enlarged  edition,  it  seems  desirable  to 
add  further  details  regarding  his  life  and  work. 

When  it  is  remembered  that  the  great  majority  of 
volumes  of  poetry  fall  stillborn  from  the  press,  that 
but  a  few  are  salable  for  a  year,  and  that  still  fewer 
are  remembered  at  the  end  of  five  years,  the  continued 
demand  for  Russell's  poems  after  almost  thirty  years 
since  they  were  first  collected  in  1888,  nine  years  after 
his  death,  is  evidence  that  his  poems  possess  the  vitality 
of  genius.  This  lapse  of  time  has  brought  also  a  defi 
nite  appreciation  of  his  significance  in  American  Litera 
ture  as  one  of  the  first  to  realize  the  literary  value  of 
Negro  character  and  dialect.  The  distinction  of  being 
the  leading  pioneer  in  this  field  belongs  to  him  not 
merely  because  he  first  caught  the  general  attention  of 
the  reading  public  by  his  Negro  dialect  poems  published 
in  the  eighteen  seventies,  but  because  he  also  stimulated 
others  to  work  in  this  rich  new  field  of  literary  mate- 
xiii 


IRWIN  RUSSELL 


I 


rial.  A  striking  instance  of  this  is  Thomas  Nelson 
Page.  When  the  latter  published  in  1888  a  collection 
of  Negro  dialect  poems  which  he  and  his  friend,  Arrni- 
stead  Gordon,  had  prepared  under  the  title,  "Befo'  de 
War — Echoes  in  Negro  Dialect" — he  acknowledged  his 
obligation  by  dedicating  the  book  "To  the  Memory  of 
Irwin  Russell,  who  awoke  the  first  echo."  On  an 
other  occasion,  Mr.  Page  has  given  more  emphatic  as 
cription  of  influence,  saying,  "Personally  I  owe  much  to 
him.  It  was  the  light  of  his  genius  shining  through  his 
dialect  poems, — then  and  still  first, — that  led  my  feet  in 
the  direction  I  have  tried  to  follow.  Had  he  but  lived, 
we  should  have  had  proof  of  what  might  be  done  with 
true  Negro  dialect;  the  complement  of  'Uncle  Remus.'  ' 
Clearly,  then,  from  Russell's  work  in  his  short  life  of 
twenty-six  years,  dates  one  of  the  striking  phases  of 
American  literary  history, — the  faithful  and  sincere 
delineation  of  Negro  character. 

Irwin  Russell  was  born  in  Port  Gibson,  Mississippi, 
June  3,  1853.  His  father,  Dr.  William  McNab  Rus 
sell,  though  of  Virginia  extraction,  was  a  native  of 
Ohio.  While  still  a  young  man,  he  had  removed  to 
Port  Gibson  and  established  himself  in  the  practice  of 
medicine.  The  poet's  mother  was  a  native  of  New 
York,  but  of  New  England  ancestry.  As  Miss  Eliza 
beth  Allen,  she  taught  for  several  years  in  the  Port 
Gibson  Female  College.  A  few  months  after  Irwin's 
xiv 


IRWIN  RUSSELL 

birth,  the  Russell  family  moved  to  St.  Louis,  Missouri, 
where  they  lived  until  the  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War. 
Then,  as  Dr.  Russell  sympathized  with  the  South  and 
wished  to  throw  in  his  lot  with  the  Confederacy  in 
the  impending  struggle,  he  returned  with  his  family  to 
Port  Gibson. 

While  the  Russells  were  living  in  St.  Louis,  Irwin 
had  been  placed  in  school.  He  was  a  remarkably 
precocious  boy,  having  learned,  so  it  is  said,  at  the  age 
of  four  to  read  as  well  as  a  grown  person,  and  being 
able  at  the  age  of  six  to  read  and  understand  Milton's 
poems.  After  his  father  returned  to  Port  Gibson,  the 
boy's  education  was  continued  in  the  local  schools.  So 
wide  and  general  was  his  information,  that  he  earned 
among  his  companions  the  nickname,  "the  walking  en 
cyclopedia."  When  the  war  was  over,  Dr.  Russell 
went  again  to  St.  Louis  where  he  remained  until  Irwin 
finished  his  course  at  the  University  of  St.  Louis,  then 
a  Jesuit  college.  In  college  Irwin  showed  remark 
able  aptitude  for  study  and  evinced  particular  ability 
in  the  higher  mathematics.  After  graduating  in  1869, 
he  returned  with  his  parents  to  Port  Gibson  and  with 
out  much  heartiness  began  studying  law  in  the  office  of 
Judge  L.  N.  Baldwin.  He  was  admitted  to  the  bar  at 
the  early  age  of  nineteen ;  but,  discouraged  by  the  un- 
congeniality  of  this  profession,  he  gave  it  up  in  a  few 
months.  Then  began  the  quest  of  the  career  best  suited 
xv 


IRWIN  RUSSELL 

to  his  special  faculties,  a  quest  which  was  hardly  termi 
nated  at  the  end  of  his  life. 

During  these  years  of  finding  himself  he  continued 
to  live  in  Port  Gibson,  then  a  quiet  village  thoroughly 
typical  of  the  South.  Its  leading  citizens  were  plant 
ers,  who  had  their  plantations  in  the  near-by  country, 
a  few  lawyers  and  politicians,  the  ministers  of  the 
several  churches,  and  two  or  three  physicians.  Though 
impoverished  by  the  war,  these  planters  and  profes 
sional  men  (among  them  were  the  Humphreys,  the 
John  Taylor  Moores,  the  Ellets,  and  a  score  of  other 
well-known  families  of  southern  Mississippi)  still  pre 
served  much  of  the  delightful  culture  and  social  life 
that  had  marked  the  antebellum  South.  To  the  rna- 
turer  element  of  the  community,  Irwin  Russell,  like 
many  another  youth  of  brilliant  gifts  and  versatile 
attainments  standing  irresolute  on  the  threshold  of 
manhood  and  uncertain  of  his  chief  faculty,  must  have 
seemed  the  very  pattern  of  an  idler.  But  his,  like  the 
idleness  of  Stevenson,  consisted  not  "in  doing  nothing, 
but  in  doing  a  great  deal  not  recognized  in  the  dog 
matic  formularies  of  the  ruling  classes." 


As  might  be  expected,  ru  spent  much  time  in  wride 
and  miscellaneous  reading.  In  poetry  he  covered  a 
wide  range, — from  the  older  English  poetry  as  found 
in  Chaucer  and  Percy's  "Reliques,"  through  the  Eliza- 
bethan  dramatists  and  Herrick,  and  down  to  the  later 
xvi 


IRWIN  RUSSELL 

poetry  of  Burns,  Byron,  and  Shelley.  Novels  of  ad 
venture  he  also  read  eagerly — the  sea  tales  of  Marryat 
and  the  Indian  tales  of  Cooper  being  favorites.  To  his 
naturally  keen  sense  of  humor,  the  writings  of  Sterne, 
Fielding,  Smollett,  Dickens,  Thackeray,  Moliere,  and 
Rabelais  made  a  strong  appeal.  But  books  did  not  oc 
cupy  his  life  altogether.  His  versatility  and  artistic 
talents  led  him  to  various  accomplishments.  An  inter 
est  in  printing  resulted  in  his  owning  a  small  printing 
outfit  with  which  he  produced  very  tasteful  specimens 
of  typography.  Though  this  work  never  became  more 
than  a  means  to  furnish  amusement  and  novelty,  yet  he 
was  inclined  for  a  while  to  take  it  up  seriously  as  a  pro 
fession  and  did  make  himself  a  connoisseur  in  type 
setting.  Literary  genius,  in  his  case,  went  hand  in 
hand  with  artistic  skill  in  other  directions.  He  had  a 
talent  for  drawing  which  had  been  cultivated  to  a 
slight  extent.  As  would  be  expected,  his  sense  of  the 
humorous  made  his  work  largely  caricature.  So  con 
genial  to  him  was  this  facility  with  his  pencil  that  at 
one  time  he  thought  of  becoming  an  architect.  He 
was  also  gifted  with  rare  musical  ability.  His  talent 
in  this  direction  was  entirely  uncultivated,  but  even  as 
a  child  he  was  expert  on  the  banjo  and  the  piano. 

Though  his  health  was  never  robust  and  his  tem 
perament  inclined  him  to  a  studious  and  contemplative 
life,  yet  he  was  not  unsocial.     His  many  attractive  per- 
xvii 


IRWIN  RUSSELL 

sonal  qualities  and  accomplishments  made  his  friends 
insist  that  he  come  out  among  them.  In  the  social  life 
of  the  town  he  took  a  conspicuous  part.  He  was  the 
leading  spirit  in  amateur  theatricals  and  other  enter 
tainments,  not  only  serving  as  the  organizer  of  such 
affairs,  but  as  one  of  the  leading  participators.  The 
vein  of  fun  and  love  of  foolery  that  was  an  ingrained 
part  of  his  nature  led  to  vagaries  and  practical  jokes 
that  must  have  added  greatly  to  the  gaiety  of  life  in 
Port  Gibson,  especially  among  the  younger  element. 

Interesting  points  regarding  his  appearance  and  dis 
position  are  given  in  the  following  passage : * 

His  disposition  was  remarkably  gentle,  his  voice  low  and 
musical,  and  his  smile  exceedingly  winning,  with  an  inde 
scribable  expression  of  sadness  and  resignation.  .  .  .  His  car 
riage  was  erect,  with  a  slight  stoop  of  the  shoulder  and  in 
clination  of  the  head;  and  he  walked  with  a  swinging  gait, 
apparently  gazing  afar  off,  his  long  arms  dangling  by  his 
side.  Yet  though  apparently  not  observant  of  his  surround 
ings,  and  handicapped  by  the  blindness  of  one  eye  and  near- 
sightedness  of  the  other,  he  saw  much  that  was  not  obvious 
to  the  ordinary  observer,  and  there  were  few  of  his  walks 
that  did  not  reward  him  with  suggestion.  ...  He  would 
carry  home  with  him  in  his  mind's  eye  everything  that  was 
grotesque.  .  .  .  His  love  of  nature  was  a  passion,  and  no  one 
enjoyed  more  or  described  better  a  splendid  sunset,  a  gor 
geous  Southern  forest,  or  any  natural  scene.  He  saw  every 

1  This  and  the  other  quotations  in  this  article  are  taken, 
unless  otherwise  noted,  from  a  valuable  personal  account 
of  Irwin  Russell  contributed  by  his  cousin  and  intimate 
friend,  C.  C.  Marble,  to  The  Critic  for  October  27  and 
November  3,  1888  (Vol.  XIII,  pp.  199,  213). 

xviii 


m 

IRWIN  RUSSELL 

bird,  took  note  of  every  conformation  of  nature,  was  familiar 
with  the  names  of  trees  and  plants,  had  an  eye  for  prospects, 
and  an  ear  for  sounds  and  exquisite  sensitiveness  for  nature's 
perfumes,  and  a  rollicking  enjoyment  of  the  country.  .  .  .  But 
illness  made  him  moody,  and  a  reaction  always  followed 
what  seemed  to  be  physical  exhilaration. 

During  this  period  in  his  life,  Russell  showed  a  rest 
lessness  and  fondness  for  new  scenes  and  adventures 
that  led  to  his  leaving  home  on  several  occasions,  some 
times  with,  and  sometimes  without,  the  sanction  of  his 
parents.  When  he  was  about  nineteen  and  under  the 
spell  of  Marryat's  sea  stories,  he  disappeared  from 
home,  and  after  a  search  of  six  weeks  was  found  living 
in  a  sailors'  boarding  house  in  New  Orleans.  He  had 
even  endeavored  to  carry  his  wanderings  farther  and 
had  rowed  out  to  a  ship  about  to  sail  for  the  Medi 
terranean  to  interview  the  captain  in  regard  to  shipping 
as  a  sailor.  But  becoming  aware  of  the  probability  of 
hard  and  long  service  without  the  opportunity  he 
craved  to  see  life,  he  had  thought  better  of  his  de 
termination  and  given  it  up.  At  other  times  he  felt 
keenly  the  call  of  the  West.  Once  he  started  to  Cali 
fornia,  where  an  uncle  was  living,  but  after  running 
through  foolishly  in  Tennessee  the  money  with  which 
he  was  provided,  and  becoming  ill,  he  returned  home. 
On  another  occasion,  he  went  to  Texas  and  spent  sev 
eral  months  there,  but  again  an  empty  purse  and  illness 
sent  him  back  to  Port  Gibson. 

xix 


IRWIN  RUSSELL 

Like  many  another  among  men  of  letters  and  artists 
with  the  sensitive  organization  of  genius,  Russell  had 
his  defects  of  temperament.  The  moods  of  depression 
and  the  attempts  to  establish  himself  anew  in  other 
parts  already  mentioned  werg  undoubtedly  to  some  ex 
tent  due  to  his  realization  of  the  losing  struggle  be 
tween  his  higher  nature  with  its  many  attractive  and 
lovable  qualities  and  his  lower  nature  which  particu 
larly  manifested  itself  in  a  craving  for  stimulants. 
Even  if  space  permitted,  there  wrould  seem  to  be  no 
need  after  the  lapse  of  years  to  dwell  on  the  details  of 
this  struggle.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  his  was  an  instance 
where  one  should  be  charitable  to  a  young  man  floun 
dering  through  the  stormy  seas  of  adolescence,  and 
judge  in  the  spirit  of  those  gentle  words  of  Carlyle  in 
regard  to  Burns,  "Granted,  the  ship  comes  into  harbor 
with  shrouds  and  tackle  damaged;  the  pilot  is  blame 
worthy;  he  has  not  been  all-wise  and  all-powerful; 
but  to  know  how  blameworthy,  tell  us  first  whether  his 
voyage  has  been  round  the  Globe,  or  only  to  Ramsgate 
and  the  Isle  of  Dogs." 

By  his  contributions  to  the  local  papers,  Russell  very 
early  drew  the  attention  of  his  friends  to  his  gift  for 
humorous  poetry.  His  first  poem — a  clever  but  juve 
nile  skit  on  the  origin  of  footbinding  in  China,  entitled, 
"A  Chinese  Tale" — appeared  about  1869.  The  verses 
entitled,  "Ships  from  the  Sea,"  published  in  the  Port 
XX 


IRWIN  RUSSELL 

Gibson  Standard  of  October  13,  1871,  received  greater 
attention  locally.  They  were  a  graceful  reply  to  a 
poem  in  a  preceding  number  of  the  Standard  by  Miss 
Sallie  Massie,  one  of  the  young  ladies  of  the  town  and 
a  friend  of  Russell's,  who  had  signed  it  "Ishmael," 
because,  as  she  explained,  it  would  share  the  fate  of 
Ishmael — every  man's  hand  would  be  against  it.  It 
is  impossible  now  to  determine  with  what  poem  he 
began  the  use  of  Negro  dialect.  Very  likely  the  earlier 
dialect  poems  were  published  in  local  papers,  but  those 
contributed  to  the  Bric-a-Brac  department  of  'Scrib- 
ners  Monthly  represent  the  earliest  at  present  known. 
The  first  of  these — " Uncle  Cap  Interviewed" — ap 
peared  in  January,  1876,  and  during  the  next  four 
years  most  of  Russell's  other  better  known  poems  ap 
peared  in  the  same  magazine.  His  work  also  appeared 
in  Appletons'  Magazine,  Puck,  and  other  periodicals. 
As  much  of  his  poetry  was  published  anonymously  or 
under  various  pen  names  ("Job  Case"  being  one  of 
these),  it  is  probable  that  many  of  his  poems  still  elude 
collection. 

How  Russell  began  to  make  use  of  Negro  dialect 
and  Negro  character  may  fortunately  be  given  substan 
tially  in  his  own  words: 

It  was  almost  an  inspiration.  You  know  I  am  something 
of  a  banjoist.  Well,  one  evening  I  was  sitting  in  our  back 
yard  in  old  Mississippi  "twanging"  on  the  banjo,  when  I 

xxi 


IRWIN  RUSSELL 

heard  our  colored  domestic,  an  old  darky  of  the  Aunt 
Dinah  type — singing  one  of  the  outlandish  campmeeting 
hymns  of  which  the  race  is  so  fond.  She  was  an  extremely 
"  'ligious"  character,  and,  although  seized  with  the  im 
pulse  to  do  so,  I  hesitated  to  take  up  the  tune  and  finish  it. 
I  did  so,  however;  and  in  the  dialect  I  have  adopted,  whicli 
I  then  thought  and  still  think  is  in  strict  conformity  to  their 
use  of  it.  I  proceeded  as  one  inspired,  to  compose  verse  after 
verse,  of  the  most  absurd  and  extravagant,  and,  to  her  irrev 
erent  rime  ever  before  invented,  all  the  while  accompanying 
it  on  the  banjo  and  imitating  the  fashion  of  the  plantation 
Negro.  ...  I  was  then  about  sixteen,  and  as  I  had  soon 
after  a  like  inclination  to  versify,  was  myself  pleased  with 
the  performance,  and  it  was  accepted  by  a  publisher,  I 
have  continued  to  work  the  vein  indefinitely. 

Thus  the  years  were  passed  until  the  epidemic  of 
yellow  fever  in  the  summer  of  1878  brought  days  of 
sterner  stress  profoundly  influencing  the  subsequent 
year  and  a  half  of  Russell's  life.  When  the  fever 
reached  Port  Gibson,  every  one  who  could  afford  to 
do  so  promptly  "refugeed."  This  left  in  the  town  a 
remnant  to  suffer  the  ravages  of  the  disease.  With  the 
heroism  of  his  profession,  Dr.  Russell  stayed  to  serve 
the  sick,  and  Invin,  who  felt  immunity  because  of 
having  survived  an  attack  of  the  fever  when  he  was 
but  a  few  weeks  old,  stayed  with  his  father  to  help  in 
the  nursing.  Vivid  accounts  of  how  he  cared  for  the 
fever-stricken  victims  and  buried  the  dead  are  con 
tained  in  Russell's  letters  of  this  period.  In  one  of 
them,  written  on  September  13,  1878,  he  says; 
xxii 


IRWIN  RUSSELL 

I  am  worn  out  from  nursing  night  and  day,  and  perform 
ing  such  other  duties  as  were  mine  as  a  "Howard" — and 
simply  as  a  man.  Four  days  ago  I  for  the  first  time  in  a 
month  sat  down  to  a  regularly  cooked  and  served  meal.  I 
have  been  living  as  Doctor  Wango  Tango  of  Nursery  fame, 
"on  a  biscuit  a  day" — when  I  could  get  it.  Between  six  and 
seven  hundred  people  (out  of  sixteen  hundred)  remained  in 
town  to  face  the  fever.  Out  of  these  there  have  been  about 
five  hundred  and  seventy  cases,  and  one  hundred  and  eighteen 
deaths,  up  to  this  time.  I  will  not  attempt  to  give  you  an 
idea  of  the  awful  horrors  I  have  seen — among  which  I  have 
lived  for  the  past  five  or  six  weeks — besides  which  I  have 
seen  or  heard  nothing  whatever.  Hendrick  Conscience,  Boc 
caccio,  and  Defoe  tried  to  describe  similar  scenes,  and  I  now 
realize  how  utterly  they  failed.  No  descriptions  can  convey 
a  tithe  of  the  reality. 

Probably  wishing  to  get  away  from  scenes  so  heavily 
charged  with  sadness  as  well  as  desiring  to  go  where 
his  literary  work  could  be  done  under  more  favorable 
circumstances,  Russell  left  Port  Gibson  in  the  latter 
part  of  December,  1878,  and  went  to  New  York.  In 
this  move  he  had  his  father's  help  and  encouragement, 
and  on  his  arrival  in  New  York,  he  met  with  a  cordial 
welcome  from  those  wrho  knew  him  through  his  maga 
zine  contributions.  Such  men  as  Henry  C.  Bunner, 
the  editor  of  Puck,  Richard  Watson  Gilder,  and  Rob 
ert  Underwood  Johnson  of  the  staff  of  Scrtbners 
Monthly,  took  great  interest  in  him  and  gave  every 
encouragement  to  his  work.  Under  such  auspices  it 
would  seem  that  all  was  to  be  fair  sailing.  But  the 
gods  willed  it  not  so.  The  environment  was  clearly 
xxiii 


IRWIN  RUSSELL 

not  propitious  to  his  best  work.  As  some  one  has  ex 
pressed  it,  "the  balmy  breezes  of  the  South  were  needed 

to  inspire  him  and  the  simple  Negro  folk  could  not 

t 

speak  through  him  while  he  was  away  from  the  South 
land."  His  heart  became  heavy  laden  because  of  the 
death  in  May,  1879,  of  his  idolized  father  from  over 
work  in  the  yellow  fever  epidemic  of  the  preceding 
summer.  His  funds  became  exhausted  but  pride  held 
him  back  from  asking  assistance  of  his  friends.  Illness 
came,  and  before  he  was  really  convalescent,  he  formed 
a  determination  to  return  at  once  to  the  South. 

In  August,  1879,  Russell  reached  New  Orleans, 
having  worked  his  way  thither  from  New  York  as  a 
fireman  on  the  Knickerbocker.  In  speaking  of  this  ex 
perience  afterwards  to  a  friend,  he  said:  "Gaunt  and 
weak  and  wretched  as  I  was,  they  took  me,  and  I  did 
a  coal  heaver's  and  fireman's  duty  almost  all  the  way 
down.  Landed  here,  I  had  no  money,  no  friends,  no 
clothes."  But  in  New  Orleans  he  quickly  found,  as 
he  always  did  everywhere,  friends  willing  to  do  all  in 
their  power  for  him.  He  easily  secured  a  position  on 
the  staff  of  the  New  Orleans  Times  and  made  to  it 
such  contributions  in  prose  and  verse  as  his  health  per 
mitted.  But  the  hardships  of  the  trip  to  New  Orleans 
as  well  as  temptations  unsuccessfully  withstood  had 
told  severely  on  the  frail  physique  and  he  seemed  to 
realize  that  the  sands  of  his  hour-glass  were  running 
xxiv 


IRWIN  RUSSELL 

low.  By  a  strange  premonition,  his  last  published 
verses  were  upon  the  subject  of  his  own  grave.  In  the 
poem  entitled  "The  Cemetery,"  published  anonymously 
in  the  Times  barely  ten  days  before  his  death,  his 
thought  pathetically  reverted  to  his  childhood  home  and 
the  old  cemetery  where  his  father  was  buried  and  where 
he  hoped  to  lie.  But  pride  and  sensitiveness  kept  him 
from  appealing  in  his  last  illness  for  help  to  any  of  his 
own  or  his  father's  many  friends  in  New  Orleans,  any 
one  of  whom  would  gladly  have  made  provision  for  his 
needs,  or  from  making  his  plight  known  to  his  mother, 
who  had  removed  after  the  death  of  Dr.  Russell  to 
California.  On  December  23,  1879,  in  an  unpreten 
tious  boarding  house  at  73  Franklin  Street,  attended 
in  his  last  moments  by  his  Irish  landlady,  Russell's  life 
came  to  an  end.  "True  it  was,"  as  the  Times  expressed 
it  in  an  editorial  tribute  published  the  day  after  his 
death,  "that  few  men  ever  got  so  many  buffets  from 
the  hand  of  fate,  and  still  fewer,  so  little  benefit.  His 
existence  was  a  struggle  with  necessity  from  the  time 
he  left  his  home,  and  although  his  prospects  were  al 
ways  fine,  he  never  lived  to  establish  himself  any 
where." 

Russell's  career  closed  just  as  he  was  beginning  to 

make  writing  a  serious  occupation.     Up  to  the  last  few 

years  of  his  life  he  had  cared  little  for  the  products  of 

his  pen  save  as  they  might  amuse  his  friends.     He  com- 

XXV 


IRWIN  RUSSELL 

posed  with  abandon  when  the  mood  was  upon  him,  and 
left  his  work  largely  as  it  first  came  into  being.  Even 
what  is  generally  considered  his  masterpiece,  ''Christ 
mas  Night  in  the  Quarters,"  was  not  carefully  con 
structed,  but  was  written  on  the  spur  of  the  moment. 
The  poem  that  Russell  himself  considered  his  best  pro 
duction,  "Nebuchadnezzar,"  was  written  immediately 
after  watching  an  altercation  between  a  Negro  and  his 
mule  on  one  of  the  streets  of  Port  Gibson.  The  cir 
cumstances  of  the  composition  of  "Dat  Peter"  were 
probably  characteristic  of  much  of  his  work.  As  Rus 
sell  was  loafing  one  day  about  the  office  of  the  Port 
Gibson  Reveille,  whither  his  fondness  for  processes  of 
printing  frequently  led  him,  the  editor  casually  asked 
him  to  furnish  something  to  fill  up  space  in  the  forth 
coming  number.  Russell  seized  a  piece  of  proof  paper, 
and,  holding  it  against  the  door  of  the  office,  produced 
in  a  few  minutes  a  poem  which  ranks  among  his  best. 
In  the  files  of  this  newspaper  the  poem  remained  buried 
until  discovered  a  few  years  ago.  If  it  had  not  been 
for  the  zeal  of  his  friends  in  New  York,  who  nine 
years  after  his  death  collected  into  a  volume  most  of 
the  poems  that  had  appeared  in  Scribner's  Monthly  and 
in  other  periodicals,  it  is  likely  that  all  of  his  work 
would  have  remained  buried  in  the  dusty  files  of  maga 
zines  and  newspapers. 

Russell's  humorous  poems  in  plain  English  and  in 
xxvi 


IRWIN  RUSSELL 

so-called  Irish  are  unusually  clever  in  their  way.  His 
imitations  of  the  English  poets  show  his  remarkable 
gift  for  catching  the  style  of  other  writers,  and,  if  he 
had  lived  to  carry  out  his  purpose  of  continuing  these 
imitations  until  he  had  represented  all  of  the  chief 
English  poets,  he  would  have  established  himself  as  an 
American  parodist  worthy  of  ranking  with  the  English 
Calverley.  The  poems  in  serious  vein  to  which  he 
largely  devoted  himself  in  the  latter  months  of  his  life 
show  that  his  work  in  this  new  direction  was  worthy 
of  his  genius.  But  the  great  value  of  his  work  lies  in 
the  faithfulness  of  his  portrayal  of  the  Negro.  In  this 
f'eld  he  has  had  no  superior. 

In  his  treatment  of  the  Negro  Russell  aimed  not  at 
using  him  as  a  means  of  enhancing  old  Southern  life, 
as  has  been  done  by  so  many  who  have  made  literary 
use  of  the  Negro,  but  at  giving  the  Negro's  charac 
teristics.  The  result  is  a  portrayal  that  is  not  only 
more  than  usually  realistic,  but  correspondingly  fuller 
and  more  detailed.  The  Negro  thus  presented  was 
neither  the  slave  nor  the  modern  type,  but  that  which 
Russell's  opportunities  for  observation  fitted  him  espe 
cially  to  portray,  the  "old  time  darky," — that  is,  the 
free  Negro,  who,  having  been  trained  in  slavery,  re 
tained  much  of  the  deference  of  the  old  regime  in  his 
attitude  toward  the  white  people.  The  characteristics 
of  this  type  are  to  be  seen  in  a  remarkably  broad  way  in 
xxvii 


|gfo^^>ww$^ 

IRWIN  RUSSELL 

Russell's  poems.  In  them  may  be  found  the  Negro's 
personal  affection  for  his  master  and  his  devoted  al 
legiance  to  the  master's  family  even  after  being  freed; 
his  general  respect  for  white  people,  especially  those 
who  belong  to  the  "quality";  his  religiousness  with  its 
anthropomorphism,  its  naive  treatment  of  Biblical 
events,  and  its  use  of  every-day  things  and  facts  in 
teaching  ethical  truth;  his  superstition;  his  faculty  for 
observation  and  shrewdness  in  the  combination  of  the 
facts  he  sees,  shown  by  the  pithy  sayings  uttered  in  his 
moods  of  philosophizing,  sometimes,  perhaps,  with  only 
himself  or  his  mule  or  dog  as  audience;  his  love  of 
music  and  the  dance  and  special  festivities;  his  igno 
rance  of  the  world  and  awe  of  legal  customs ;  his  pecca 
dillos,  such  as  dishonesty  and  deceitfulness,  which  his 
traits  of  good-nature  and  kindness  condone;  his  com 
mon  sense  and  his  homely  precepts  of  wit  and  wisdom. 
In  its  various  phases  Russell  has  accurately  reproduced 
the  childlike  spirit  of  the  Negro,  an  understanding  of 
which  is  the  key  to  so  much  in  his  character. 

The  dialect  of  Russell's  poems  is  that  spoken  by  the 
Mississippi  Negroes.  Although  he  is  sometimes  said 
to  be  inaccurate  in  dialect,  the  charge  seems  unjust. 
The  nicety  of  feeling  for  language  so  frequently  evi 
denced  in  Russell's  work  would  be  strong  a  priori 
ground  for  believing  he  had  faithfully  reproduced  the 
speech  of  the  Mississippi  Negroes.  Moreover,  to  this 
xxviii 


IRWIN  RUSSELL 

must  be  added  his  own  claim  that  the  dialect  used  by 
him  was  "in  strict  conformity  to  their  use  of  it." 
Negro  speech  in  the  South  had  in  the  seventies,  and 
still  has,  though  of  course  to  a  less  extent,  local  dialectic 
peculiarities.  The  speech  of  the  Mississippi  Negroes 
differed  somewhat  from  those  of  Virginia  or  Georgia. 
Russell's  ear  was  keen  enough  to  detect  this  fact,  as 
one  of  his  letters  shows.  On  the  whole,  it  seems  that 
Russell  was  a  close  student  of  dialect  and  that  he  used 
it  with  reasonable  accuracy. 

His  sympathetic  portrayal  could  only  come  from  a 
poet's  deep  sense  of  the  \vorth  of  Negro  character. 
Russell's  words  on  this  point  are  deserving  of  note : 

Many  think  the  vein  a  limited  one,  but  I  tell  you  it  is  in 
exhaustible.  The  Southern  Negro  has  only  just  so  much  civ 
ilization  as  his  contact  with  the  white  man  has  given  him. 
I  e  has  been  only  indirectly  influenced  by  the  discoveries  of 
science,  the  inventions  of  human  ingenuity  and  the  general 
progress  of  mankind.  Without  education  or  social  intercourse 
with  intelligent  and  cultivated  people,  his  thought  has  been 
necessarily  original,  and  that  has  done  more  to  prove  the 
proximate  truth  of  the  now  common  saying,  Vox  populi,  vox 
Dei,  than  anything  in  the  history  of  the  white  man.  He  has 
not  been  controlled  in  his  convictions  by  historic  precedent, 
and  yet  he  has  often  manifested  a  foresight  and  wisdom  in 
practical  matters  worthy  of  the  higher  races.  You  may  call 
it  instinct,  imitation,  what  you  will;  it  has  nevertheless  a 
foundation.  I  am  a  Democrat,  was  a  rebel,  but  I  have  long 
felt  that  the  Negro,  even  in  his  submission  and  servitude,  was 
conscious  of  his  higher  nature  and  must  some  day  assert  it. 
The  white  master  alone  stood  in  the  way  of  it.  I  have  felt 
that  the  soul  should  not  be  bound  and  must  find  a  way  for 

xxix 


• 

IRWIN  RUSSELL 

itself  to  freedom.  The  Negro  race,  too,  in  spite  of  oppres 
sion,  has  retained  qualities  found  in  few  others  under  like 
circumstances.  Gratitude  it  has  always  been  distinguished 
for;  hospitality  and  helpfulness  are  its  natural  creed;  bru 
tality,  considering  the  prodigious  depth  of  its  degradation,  is 
unusual.  It  does  not  lack  courage,  industry,  self-denial,  or 
virtue.  The  petty  vices,  it  is  true,  are  common,  and  perhaps, 
inevitable,  and  are  the  best  assurance  of  the  absence  of  those 
that  are  more  formidable  and  dangerous.  Surely  the  Anglo- 
Saxon,  deprived  of  the  ordinary  helps  and  stimulants  of  civ 
ilization,  would  have  degenerated  into  the  beast  of  the  field. 
So  the  Negro  has  done  an  enormous  amount  of  thinking,  and 
with  only  such  forms  of  expression  as  his  circumstances  fur 
nished  him,  he  indulges  in  paradox,  hyperbola,  aphorism,  sen 
tentious  comparison.  He  treasures  his  traditions,  he  is  en 
thusiastic,  patient,  long  suffering,  religious,  reverent.  Is 
there  not  poetry  in  the  character?  I  say  there  is.  But  it  is 
a  despised  and  humble  race,  and  is  not  contemplated  in  this 
aspect. 

This  deep  sense  of  the  possibilities  of  Negro  charac 
ter  in  literature  led  Russell  to  form  plans  for  using 
it  in  works  of  larger  compass  than  short  poems.  He 
attempted  a  play  in  Negro  dialect.  This  was  written 
under  agreement  with  a  theatrical  manager  in  New 
York  for  its  production.  But  being  anxious  to  try  it 
out  before  sending  it  on,  Russell  secured  the  cooperation 
of  his  friends  in  Port  Gibson  for  an  amateur  perform 
ance.  Rehearsals  were  in  progress  at  the  time  of  the 
yellow  fever  outbreak,  but  in  the  resulting  confusion 
all  the  parts  were  lost  by  those  to  whom  roles  were  as 
signed,  and  hardly  any  details  regarding  the  play  can 
now  be  recovered.  He  also  contemplated  writing  a 

XXX 


IP 


JRWIN  RUSSELL 

Negro  novel.     In  regard  to  this  scheme  he  wrote  in 
1877,  enthusiastically: 

I  have  just  found  something — and  I  can't  help  showing  it 
to  you  right  away,  and  asking  what  you  think  of  it.  I  am 
not  much  given  to  emotion  of  any  sort,  yet  this  thing  excites 
me  a  little  (only  a  few  degrees,  however,  and  not  to  the 
gushing  point).  Just  this  minute  I  have  stumbled  over  a 
rarety,  if  not  a  valuable:  the  same  being  more  particularly 
known  and  described  as  an  idea.  .  .  . 

In  short  it  occurs  to  me  to  write  a  Negro  novel.  It  is  a 
thing  entirely  new — nobody  has  ever  tried  it.  Negro  lovers 
— negro  preachers — Negro  "literary  and  malevolent"  "sie- 
ties" — Negro  saints  and  Negro  sinners — think  of  what  mines 
of  humor  and  pathos,  plot  and  character,  sense  and  nonsense, 
are  here  awaiting  development!  I  shall  take  my  little  dibble 
and  scratch  away  on  the  surface.  Though  I  may  not  do 
more  than  strike  "color,"  I  shall  still  work  con  amore.  1 
will  at  least  have  all  the  advantages  of  opportunity — as  I 
have  lived  long  among  the  Negroes  (as  also  long  enough 
away  from  them  to  appreciate  their  peculiarities)  ;  under 
stand  their  character,  disposition,  language,  customs  and  hab 
its;  have  studied  them;  and  have  them  continually  before  me. 
I  shall  begin  immediately,  and  I  think  that  I  can  finish  the 
manuscript  in  sixty  days. 

It  really  seems  odd  that  nothing  of  the  kind  has  yet  been 
attempted.  Nothing  ever  has,  that  I  know  of.  "Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin,"  powerfully  written  as  it  is,  gives  no  more  true  idea 
of  Negro  life  and  character  than  one  could  get  from  the  Nau 
tical  Almanac — and  like  most  other  political  documents,  is 
quite  the  reverse  of  true  in  almost  every  respect.  The  book 
I  purpose  making  shall  be  true,  if  nothing  else  is,  and  politics 
shall  have  no  part  in  its  substance  or  its  spirit.  There  is 
another  point  that  is  novel, — in  an  American  novel. 

It  is  believed  that  Russell  had  completed  some  of  the 
chapters  of  this  proposed  novel,  but  if  so,  they  have  been 
xxxi 


. 
IRWIN  RUSSELL 

lost.  There  exists,  however,  an  outline  drawn  up  by 
him  for  a  novel  in  which  it  is  evident  that  as  early  as 
1875  he  was  contemplating  using  Negro  character  to  a 
considerable  extent  in  connection  with  a  story  dealing 
mainly  with  a  group  of  white  persons.  Another  out 
line  in  existence  shows  that  later  he  thought  of  pre 
paring  a  volume  of  prose  sketches  under  the  title, 
"Cotton  Bolls  Gathered  in  Mississippi."  Had  such  a 
book  been  finished  the  gift  of  dramatic  portrayal  that 
Russell  showed  in  such  poems  as  "Christmas  Night  in 
the  Quarters"  would  have  made  it  a  valuable  picture 
of  the  life  of  his  times  among  the  Negroes  and  the 
white  people  of  Southern  Mississippi. 

This  evident  desire  to  try  his  ability  in  prose  sketches 
and  stories  indicates  that,  had  Russell  lived,  he  would 
have  produced  work  that  would  have  entitled  him  to 
rank  as  pioneer  in  this  field  as  well  as  in  dialect 
poetry.  During  his  life,  only  two  short  stories  were 
published,  and  owing  to  the  fact  that  they  appeared  in 
a  juvenile  magazine,  did  not  command  the  attention 
they  deserved.  But  it  must  be  remembered  that  there 
was  not  then  among  the  magazines  the  demand  for 
material  of  this  kind  that  came  later,  and  that  even 
so  striking  a  story  as  Thomas  Nelson  Page's  "Marse 
Chan"  remained,  in  the  early  eighties,  in  the  hands  of 
The  Century  Magazine  four  years  before  it  was  timidly 
used.  Among  Russell's  unpublished  manuscripts  are 
xxxii 


IRWIN  RUSSELL 

several  stories  showing  convincingly  many  of  the  quali 
ties  essential  to  success.  If  Russell  had  lived  to  develop 
this  side  of  his  genius,  he  would  perhaps  have  proved 
well-founded  the  statement  made  of  him  by  Joel 
Chandler  Harris  in  a  private  letter,  "Had  he  been 
spared  to  letters,  all  the  rest  of  us  would  have  taken 
back  seats  so  far  as  the  representation  of  life  in  the 
South  is  concerned." 

Although  Russell's  work  must  remain  a  fragment,  a 
mere  foretaste  of  what  he  might  have  achieved,  it  is 
evident  that  the  loss  to  literature  by  his  early  death  was 
assuredly  not  small.  Had  his  life  been  longer,  he 
might  have  made  a  deeper  mark  on  American  litera 
ture  though  he  could  not  have  made  a  more  original 
impress  than  he  had  already  done  through  that  deep 
poetic  vision  that  saw  pathos  and  humor  and  beauty 
in  the  humble  life  that  others  had  contemned. 

[After  the  foregoing  sketch  had  been  put  into  type, 
an  interesting  series  of  nearly  seventy  letters  by  Irwin 
Russell  came  to  hand.  Extending  from  the  early  au 
tumn  of  1875  to  the  end  of  1878,  they  cover  the  period 
of  his  rapidly  developing  genius  and  present  valuable 
material  concerning  his  personal  history  and  literary 
plans. 

In  the  light  of  these  letters,  it  is  necessary  to  modify 
the  previous  statement  regarding  Russell's  abandoning 
xxxiii 


IRWIN  RUSSELL 

the  profession  of  law.  In  the  autumn  of  1877,  he  re 
commenced  practice  in  association  with  his  old  pre 
ceptor,  Judge  Baldwin,  who  had  one  of  the  most  exten 
sive  civil  practices  among  the  Mississippi  lawyers  of 
that  time.  The  fact  that  Judge  Baldwin,  who  was 
getting  on  in  years,  selected  Russell  as  his  assistant  and 
entrusted  the  management  of  important  cases  to  him 
was  a  flattering  testimony  to  Russell's  ability.  Russell 
was  very  busily  engaged  at  his  profession  until  the  out 
break  of  yellow  fever  at  the  end  of  the  summer  of  1878. 
This  calamity  coming  on  the  heels  of  the  troublous 
reconstruction  times  brought  financial  hardships  to  the 
entire  section  that  were  most  discouraging,  and  Russell, 
feeling  that  his  prospects  were  destroyed,  decided  to 
go  to  New  York. 

This  modification  of  the  previous  statement  regard 
ing  Russell's  relation  to  his  profession  would  be  inconse 
quential  were  it  not  that  the  new  view  shows  convinc- 
ingly  that  he  was  finding  himself  more  and  more  as  he 
approached  mature  years.  The  increasing  steadiness 
of  purpose  which  is  emphatically  shown  by  this  fact  and 
in  other  ways  in  this  series  of  letters  compels  belief 
that  had  Russell's  life  been  longer  his  achievement  in 
literature  would  have  been  proportionately  greater,  and 
intensifies  the  regret  that,  as  it  is,  he  is  one  of  the 
"inheritors  of  unfulfilled  renown"  whose  life  was  of 
singular  promise  and  tragedy.] 


. 
XXXI V 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHRISTMAS-NIGHT  IN  THE  QUARTERS       ....  3 

NEBUCHADNEZZAR 25 

BUSINESS  IN  MISSISSIPPI 28 

SELLING  A  DOG 34 

UNCLE  NICK  ON  FISHING  .      .      .  • 37 

NORVERN  PEOPLE 42 

^WHEREFORE  HE  PRAYS  THAT  A  WARRANT  MAY  IS 
SUE      45 

THE  MISSISSIPPI  WITNESS 53 

BLIND  NED 57 

MAHSR  JOHN 63 

PRECEPTS  AT  PARTING 69 

HALF-WAY  DOIN'S 74 

A  SERMON  FOR  THE  SISTERS 79 

UNCLE  CAP  INTERVIEWED 84 

THE  OLD  HOSTLER'S  EXPERIENCE 90 

REV.  HENRY'S  WAR-SONG 94 

LARRY'S  ON  THE  FORCE 96 

THE  IRISH  ECLIPSE 102 

/A  PRACTICAL  YOUNG  WOMAN 105 

THE  POLYPHONE 108 

THE  FIRST  CLIENT 114 


. 

CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  KNIGHT  AND  THE  SQUIRE 119 

v/  NINE  GRAVES  IN  EDINBRO 125 

HOPE 130 

STUDIES  IN  STYLE 132 

ALONG  THE  LINE 137 

HER  CONQUEST •    H3 

NELLY •    H5 

COSMOS •    H7 

AN  EXCHANGE H9 

THE  CEMETERY 15° 

>/  GOING 152 

DAT  PETER *55 

SUMMER  IDYLLERS *58 

THE  KINGDOM  GATE 1D4 

THE  MOCKINGBIRD ^6 

SHIPS  FROM  THE  SEA *68 

UNCLE  CALEB'S  VIEWS lll 

POT-LIQUOR X75 

THE  MISSISSIPPI  MIRACLE J78 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

"Balance  all! — now  step  out   rightly"     .     Frontispiece 

PAGE 

"O  Mahsr!   let   dis  gath'rin'   fin'   a  blessin'   in  yo' 

sight!" 7 

"Georgy  Sam" 1 1 

Aunt  Cassy 16 

"Ol'  Noah  kep'  a-nailin'  "... 19 

"De  ha'r  's  so  long  an'  thick  an'  strong"        ...  22 

"Wuz  dat  a  cannon  shot  me*?" 27 

"What !  de  cotton  ain't  de  same" 30 

"You  mus'  keep  yo'  cork  a-bobbin'  " 40 

"Las'  spring  I  foun'  a  little  chicken  runnin'  in  de 

road" 46 

"An'  me  an'   Phyllis   had  important  bizness  at  de 

doah" 49 

"Yoah  Honah,  an'  de  jury" 52 

"Is  dat  you,  Mahsr  Bob?" 59 

Dat  Bill 62 

Mulatter  Bill  a'dribin' 65 

A-stretchin'  an'  crowin' 70 

"But  nebber  git  airy" 72 

"Keep  a-hoein'  an'  a-scrapin'  ': 77 

"I 's  fust  clumb  up  de  knowledge-tree"     .      .      .      .81 

"Good-mornin',  Mahsr  ;  I  's  tol'able  myself"       .      .  86 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

"An'  now  I  simply  'vises  you" 92 

"And  ain't  ye  dhrissed!" 97 

"He  houlds  his  shtick  convanient  to  be  tappin'  some 

wan  down" 100 

He  sat  him  down  and  wrote  in  rhyme       .      .      .      .106 

Professor  Jones 109 

Sir  Mortimer  rode  with  his  banner  displayed       .      .122 

The  sexton 127 

"There  come  a  break,  and  his  office  call"       .      .      .    140 

"Some  of 'em 'z  long  as  that" 161 

"Dat  's  glorified  music  he  's  singin'  "        ....    167 
"Go  in  dat  bresh,  and  dribe  de  'possums'  king  out"   176 


I 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 
IN  THE  QUARTERS 

AND  OTHER  POEMS 


ssssssss 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT  IN  THE  QUARTERS 

WHEN  merry  Christmas-day  is  done 
And  Christmas-night  is  just  begun; 
While  clouds  in  slow  procession  drift, 
To  wish  the  moon-man  "Christmas  gift," 
Yet  linger  overhead,  to  know 
What  causes  all  the  stir  below; 
At  Uncle  Johnny  Booker's  ball 
The  darkies  hold  high  carnival. 
From  all  the  country-side  they  throng, 
With  laughter,  shouts,  and  scraps  of  song, — 
Their  whole  deportment  plainly  showing 
That  to  the  Frolic  they  are  going. 
Some  take  the  path  with  shoes  in  hand, 
To  traverse  muddy  bottom-land; 
Aristocrats   their   steeds   bestride— 
Four  on  a  mule,  behold  them  ride! 

3 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 

And  ten  great  oxen  draw  apace 
The  wagon  from  "de  odder  place," 
With  forty  guests,  whose  conversation 
Betokens  glad  anticipation. 
Not  so  with  him  who  drives:  old  Jim 
Is  sagely  solemn,  hard,  and  grim, 
And  frolics  have  no  joys  for  him. 
He  seldom  speaks  but  to  condemn — 

Or  utter  some  wise  apothegm — 

, 
Or  else,  some  crabbed  thought  pursuing, 

Talk  to  his  team,  as  now  he  's  doing: 


Come  up  heah,  Star !  Yee-bawee ! 

You  alluz  is  a-laggin' — 
Mus'  be  you  think  I 's  dead, 

An'  dis  de  huss  you  's  draggin' — 
You  Js  'mos'  too  lazy  to  draw  yo'  bref' 

Let  'lone  drawin'  de  waggin. 
4 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 

Dis  team — quit  bel'rin',  sah ! 

De  ladies  don't  submit  'at — 
Dis  team — you  ol'  fool  ox, 

You  heah  me  tell  you  quit  'at*? 
Dis  team  's  des  like  de  'Nited  States; 

Dat  's  what  I 's  try  in'  to  git  at ! 


De  people  rides  behin', 

De  pollytishners  haulin' — 
Sh'u'd  be  a  well-bruk  ox, 


To  foller  dat  ar  callin'— 

M 
An'  sometimes  nuffin  won't  do  dem  steers, 

But  what  dey  mus'  be  stallin' ! 


Woo  bahgh !  Buck-kannon !  Yes,  sar, 
Sometimes  dey  will  be  stickin'; 

An'  den,  fus  thing  dey  knows, 
Dey  takes  a  rale  good  lickin'. 

De  folks  gits  down :  an'  den  watch  out 
For  hommerin'  an'  kickin'. 


vS 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 

Dey  blows  upon  dey  hands, 
Den  flings  'em  wid  de  nails  up, 

Jumps  up  an'  cracks  dey  heels, 
An'  pruzently  dey  sails  up, 

An'  makes  dem  oxen  hump  deysef, 
By  twistin'  all  dey  tails  up ! 


That  held  that  books  were  born  of  thought. 
We  form  our  minds  by  pedants'  rules, 
And  all  we  know  is  from  the  schools; 
And  when  we  work,  or  when  we  play, 
We  do  it  in  an  ordered  way— 
And  Nature's  self  pronounce  a  ban  on, 
Whene'er  she  dares  transgress  a  canon. 


1 

|fjn 

In  this  our  age  of  printer's  ink 

'T  is  books  that  show  us  how  to  think — 

The  rule  reversed,  and  set  at  naught, 


'O  Mahsr!  let  dis  gath'rin'  fin'  a  blessin'  in  yo'  sight!1 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 

Untrammeled  thus  the  simple  race  is 
That  "wuks  the  craps"  on  cotton  places. 
Original  in  act  and  thought, 
Because  unlearned  and  untaught. 
Observe  them  at  their  Christmas  party: 
How  unrestrained  their  mirth — how  hearty ! 
How  many  things  they  say  and  do 
That  never  would  occur  to  you! 
See  Brudder  Brown — whose  saving  grace 
Would  sanctify  a  quarter-race — 
Out  on  the  crowded  floor  advance, 
To  "beg  a  blessin'  on  dis  dance." 


O  Mahsr!  let  dis  gath'rin'  fin'  a  blessin'  in  yo' 

sight ! 
Don't  jedge  us  hard  fur  what  we  does — you  know 

it 's  Chrismus-night ; 
8 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 

An'  all  de  balunce  ob  de  yeah  we  does  as  right 's 

we  kin. 
Ef  dancin  's  wrong,  O  Mahsr !  let  de  time  excuse 

de  sin! 


We  labors  in  de  vineya'd,  wukin'  hard  an'  wukin' 

true; 
Now,  shorely  you  won't  notus,  ef  we  eats  a  grape 

or  two, 
An'    takes    a    leetle    holiday, — a    leetle    restin'- 

spell,- 
Bekase,  nex'  week,  we  '11  start  in  fresh,  an'  labor 

twicet  as  well. 

Remember,   Mahsr, — min'  dis  now, — de  sinfull- 

ness  ob  sin 
Is  'pendin'  'pon  de  sperrit  what  we  goes  an'  does 

it  in: 
An'  in  a  righchis  frame  ob  min'  we  's  gwine  to 

dance  an'  sing, 

9 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 

A-feelin'    like    King    David,    when    he    cut    de 
pigeon-wing. 

It  seems  to  me — indeed  it  do — I  mebbe  mout  be 

wrong- 
That  people  raly  ought  to  dance,  when  Chrismus 

comes  along; 
Des  dance  bekase  dey  's  happy— like  de  birds  hops 

in  de  trees, 
De  pine-top  fiddle  soundin'  to  de  bowin'  ob  de 

breeze. 


We  has  no  ark  to  dance  afore,  like  Isrul's  prophet 

king; 
We  has  no  harp  to  soun'  de  chords,  to  holp  us  out 

m 

to  sing; 
But  'cordin'  to  de  gif's  we  has  we  does  de  bes' 

we  knows, 
An'  folks  don't  'spise  the  vi'let-flower  bekase  it 

ain't  de  rose. 

10 


"Georgy  Sam" 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 

You   bless   us,   please,    sah,    eben   ef  we 's   doin' 

wrong  to-night; 
Kase  den  we  '11  need  de  blessin'  more  'n  ef  we  's 

doin'  right; 
An'  let  de  blessin'  stay  wid  us,  untel  we  comes  to 

S    aie'  i 

An'  goes  to  keep  our  Chrismus  wid  dem  sheriffs 
in  de  sky ! 

m  w 

Yes,  tell  dem  preshis  anguls  we  's  a-gwine  to  jine 

'em  soon: 
Our  voices  we  's  a-trainin'  fur  to  sing  de  glory 

tune;  ,£•„ 

We  's  ready  when  you  wants  us,  an'  it  ain't  no 

matter  when — 
O  Mahsr !  call  yo'  chillen  soon,  an'  take  'em  home ! 

Amen. 


12 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 

The  rev' rend  man  is  scarcely  through, 
When  all  the  noise  begins  anew, 
And  with  such  force  assaults  the  ears, 
That  through  the  din  one  hardly  hears 
Old  fiddling  Josey  "sound  his  A," 
Correct  the  pitch,  begin  to  play, 
Stop,  satisfied,  then,  with  the  bow, 
Rap  out  the  signal  dancers  know : 


Git  yo'  pardners,  fust  kwattilion! 
Stomp  yo'  feet,  an'  raise  'em  high; 
Tune  is:   uOh!  dat  water-million! 
Gwine  to  git  to  home  bime-bye." 
S'lute  yo'  pardners! — scrape  perlitely — 
Don't  be  bumpin'  gin  de  res' — 
Balance  all! — now,  step  out  rightly; 
Alluz  dance  yo'  lebbel  bes'. 

13 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 

Fo'wa'd  foah! — whoop  up,  niggers! 

Back  ag'in! — don't  be  so  slow! — 

Swing  cornahsl — min'  de  riggers! 

When  I  hollers,  den  yo'  go. 

Top  ladies  cross  ober! 

Hoi'  on,  till  I  takes  a  dram — 

Gemmen  solo! — yes,  I 's  sober — 

Cain't  say  how  de  fiddle  am. 

Hands  around! — hoi'  up  yo'  faces, 

Don't  be  lookin'  at  yo'  feet! 

Swing  yo'  pardners  to  yo'  places! 

Dat  's  de  way — dat  's  hard  to  beat. 

Sides  for'w'd! — w*hen  you  's  ready — 

Make  a  bow  as  low  's  you  kin ! 

Swing  acrost  wid  opposite  lady! 

Now  we'll  let  you  swap  ag'in: 

Ladies  change! — shet  up  dat  talkin'; 

Do  yo'  talkin'  arter  while! 

Right  and  lef ! — don't  want  no  walkin' — 

Make  yo'  steps,  an'  show  yo'  style ! 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 

And  so  the  "set"  proceeds — its  length 

Determined  by  the  dancers'  strength; 

And  all  agree  to  yield  the  palm 

For  grace  and  skill  to  "Georgy  Sam," 

Who  stamps  so  hard,  and  leaps  so  high, 

"Des  watch  him!"  is  the  wond'ring  cry — 

uDe  nigger  mus'  be,   for  a  fac', 

Own  cousin  to  a  jumpin'-jack!" 

On,  on,  the  restless  fiddle  sounds, 

Still  chorused  by  the  curs  and  hounds; 

Dance  after  dance  succeeding  fast, 

Till  supper  is  announced  at  last. 

That  scene — but  why  attempt  to  show  it? 

The  most  inventive  modem  poet, 

In  fine  new  words  whose  hope  and  trust  is, 

Could  form  no  phrase  to  do  it  justice ! 

When  supper  ends — that  is  not  so  soon — 

The  fiddle  strikes  the  same  old  tune; 

The  dancers  pound  the  floor  again, 

With  all  they  have  of  might  and  main; 


15 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 


Old  gossips,  almost  turning  pale, 
Attend  Aunt  Cassy's  gruesome  tale 
Of  conjurors,  and  ghosts,  and  devils, 
That  in  the  smoke-house  hold  their  revels; 


Aunt  Cassy 

Each  drowsy  baby  droops  his  head, 
Yet  scorns  the  very  thought  of  bed: — 
So  wears  the  night,  and  wears  so  fast, 
All  wonder  when  they  find  it  past. 
And  hear  the  signal  sound  to  go 
From  what  few  cocks  are  left  to  crow. 
Then,  one  and  all,  you  hear  them  shout: 
"Hi!  Booker!  fotch  de  banjo  out, 
16 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 

An'  gib  us  one  song  'fore  we  goes — 
One  ob  de  berry  bes'  you  knows!" 
Responding  to  the  welcome  call, 
He  takes  the  banjo  from  the  wall, 
And  tunes  the  strings  with  skill  and  care, 
Then  strikes  them  with  a  master's  air, 
And  tells,  in  melody  and  rime, 
This  legend  of  the  olden  time: 


Go  'way,   fiddle!   folks   is   tired  o'   hearin'   you 

a-squakin'. 
Keep  silence  fur  yo'  betters! — don't  you  heah  de 

banjo  talkin'2 
About  de  'possum's  tail  she  's  gwine  to  lecter — 

1_J!__      1  *     .L.     „   t 


About  de  ha 


ladies,  listen! — 

/r  whut  isn't  da,  an'  why  de  ha'r  is 


missin 


' 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 

"Bar's  gwine  to  be  a'  oberflow,"  said  Noah, 
lookin'  solemn — 

Fur  Noah  tuk  the  "Herald,"  an'  he  read  de  ribber 
column— 

An'  so  he  sot  his  hands  to  wuk  a-cl'arin'  timber- 
patches, 

And  'lowed  he  's  gwine  to  build  a  boat  to  beat  the 
steamah  'Natchez. 


. 
OP    Noah    kep'    a-nailin'    an'    a-chippin'    an'    a- 

sawin' ; 
An'  all  de  wicked  neighbors  kep'  a-laughin'  an'  a- 

pshawin' ; 
But  Noah  did  n't  min'  'em,  knowin'  whut  wuz 

gwine  to  happen: 
An'  forty  days  an'  forty  nights  de  rain  it  kep'  a- 

drappin'. 


f 


Now,  Noah  had  done  cotched  a  lot  ob  ebry  sort 
o'  beas'es — 

18 


"Ol'  Noah  kep'   a-nailin' " 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 

Ob  all  de  shows  a-trabbelin',  it  beat  'em  all  to 

pieces ! 
He  had  a  Morgan  colt  an'  sebral  head  o*  Jarsey 


cattl 


An'  druv  'em  'board  de  Ark  as  soon  's  he  heered 
de  thunder  rattle. 


Den  sech  anoder  fall  ob  rain ! — it  come  so  awful 

hebby, 

De  ribber  riz  immejitly,  an'  busted  troo  de  lebbee; 
De  people  all  wuz  drownded  out — 'cep'  Noah  an' 

de  critters, 
An'  men  he  'd  hired  to  work  de  boat — an'  one  to 

mix  de  bitters. 

De  Ark  she  kep'  a-sailin'  an'  a-sailin'  an'  a-sailin' ; 
De  lion  got  his  dander  up,  an'  like  to  bruk  de 

pal  in'; 
r 

De  sarpents  hissed;  de  painters  yelled;  tell,  whut 
wid  all  de  fussin', 

20 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 

You  c'u'd  n't  hardly  heah  de  mate  a-bossin'  'roun' 


an'  cussin'. 


Now,  Ham,  de  only  nigger  whut  wuz  runnin'  on 

de  packet, 
Got  lonesome  in  de  barber-shop,  an'  c'u'd  n't  stan' 

de  racket; 
An'  so,  fur  to  amuse  he-se'f,  he  steamed  some 

wood  an'  bent  it, 

An'  soon  he  had  a  banjo  made — de  fust  dat  wuz 

'A:;'     •  i 

invented. 


He  wet  de  ledder,  stretched  it  on ;  made  bridge  an' 

screws  an'  aprin; 
An'  fitted  in  a  proper  neck — 't  wuz  berry  long  an' 

tap'rin'; 

He  tuk  some  tin,  an'  twisted  him  a  thimble  fur  to 

. 
ring  it; 

An'   den  de  mighty  question   riz:   how   wuz  he 
gwine  to  string  it? 

21 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 

De  'possum  had  as  fine  a  tail  as  dis  dat  I 's  a- 

singin' ; 
De  ha'r  's  so  long  an'  thick  an'  strong, — des  fit 

fur  banjo-stringin' ; 


•     "De  ha'r  's  so  long  an'  thick  an'  strong" 

Dat  nigger  shaved  'em  off  as  short  as  wash-day- 
dinner  graces; 

An'  sorted -ob  'em  by  de  size,  f'om  little  E's  to 
basses. 

He  strung  her,  tuned  her,  struck  a  jig, — 't  wuz 
"Nebber  min'  de  wedder," — 
22 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 

She  soun'   like   forty-lebben  bands   a-playin'   all 

togedder ; 
Some  went  to  pattin' ;  some   to  dancin' :   Noah 

called  de  figgers; 
An'  Ham  he  sot  an'  knocked  de  tune,  de  happiest 

ob  niggers! 
. 

Now,    sence    dat    time — it's    mighty    strange— 

dere  's  not  de  slightes'  showin' 
Ob   any  ha'r  at  all   upon   de   'possum's   tail   a- 

growin' ; 
An'    curi's,    too,    dat   nigger's   ways:   his   people 

nebber  los'  'em — 
Fur  whar  you  finds  de  nigger — dar  's  de  banjo  an' 

de  'possum ! 

The  night  is  spent;  and  as  the  day 
Throws  up  the  first  faint  flash  of  gray, 
The  guests  pursue  their  homeward  way: 
And  through  the  field  beyond  the  gin, 
23 


CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 

Just  as  the  stars  are  going  in, 
See  Santa  Claus  departing — grieving — 
His  own  dear  Land  of  Cotton  leaving. 
His  work  is  done;  he  fain  would  rest 
Where  people  know  and  love  him  best. 
He  pauses,  listens,  looks  about; 
But  go  he  must:  his  pass  is  out. 
So,  coughing  down  the  rising  tears, 
He  climbs  the  fence  and  disappears. 
And  thus  observes  a  colored  youth  - 
(The  common  sentiment,  in  sooth)  : 
"Oh !  what  a  blessin'  't  wud  ha'  been, 

Ef  Santy  had  been  born  a  twin ! 

J 

We  'd  hab  two  Chrismuses  a  yeah — 
Or  p'r'aps  one  brudder  5d  settle  heah !" 


NEBUCHADNEZZAR 

YOU,  Nebuchadnezzah,  whoa,  sah! 
Whar  is  you  tryin'  to  go,  sah? 
I  'd  hab  you  fur  to  know,  sah, 

>dj 

I's  a-holdin'  ob  de  lines. 
You  better  stop  dat  prancin'; 
You  's  pow'ful  fond  ob  dancin', 
But  I  '11  bet  my  yeah  's  advancin' 

Dat  I  '11  cure  you  ob  yo'  shines. 


• 

Look  heah,  mule!     Better  min'  out; 
Fus'  t'ing  you  know  you  '11  fin'  out 
How  quick  I  '11  wear  dis  line  out 

On  your  ugly  stubbo'n  back. 
You  need  n't  tr}  to  steal  up 
An'  lif'  dat  precious  heel  up; 
25 


NEBUCHADNEZZAR 

You  's  got  to  plow  dis  fiel'  up, 

You  has,  sah,  fur  a  fac'. 
Dar,  dat  's  de  way  to  do  it ! 
He's  comin'  right  down  to  it; 
Jes  watch  him  plowin'  troo  it! 

Dis  nigger  ain't  no  fool. 
Some  folks  dey  would  'a'  beat  him; 
Now,  dat  would  only  heat  him— 
I  know  jes  how  to  treat  him: 

You  mus'  reason  wid  a  mule. 


He  minds  me  like  a  nigger. 

If  he  wuz  only  bigger 

He  'd  fotch  a  mighty  rigger, 

He  would,  I  tell  you !     Yes,  sah ! 
See  how  he  keeps  a-clickin' ! 
He  's  as  gentle  as  a  chickin, 
An'  nebber  thinks  o'  kickin'- 
Whoa  darl     Nebuchadnezzah! 


26 


NEBUCHADNEZZAR 

Is  dis  heah  me,  or  not  me  ? 
Or  is  de  debbil  got  me? 


"Wuz  dat  a  cannon  shot  me? 


Wuz  dat  a  cannon  shot  me? 

Hab  I  laid  heah  more  'n  a  week? 
Dat  mule  do  kick  amazin' ! 
De  beast  was  sp'iled  in  raisin'- 
But  now  I  s'pect  he  's  grazin' 

On  de  oder  side  de  creek. 


BUSINESS  IN  MISSISSIPPI 

WHY,    howdy,    Mahsr    Johnny !     Is   you 
gone  to  keepin'  store? 
Well,  sah,  I  is  surprised !     I  nebber  heard  ob  dat 

afore. 

Say,  ain't  you  gwine  to  gib  me  piece  o'  good  to 
bacco,  please? 

I 's  'long  wid  you  in  Georgia,  time  we  all  wuz 
refugees. 

I  know'd  you  would;  I   alluz  tells  the  people, 

white  an'  black, 
Dat  you  's  a  r'al  gen'l'man,  an'  dat 's  de  libin' 

fac'— 
Yes,  sah,  dat 's  what  I  tells  'em,  an'  it 's  nuffin  else 

but  true, 
An'  all  de  cullud  people  thinks  a  mighty  heap  ob 

you. 

28 


BUSINESS  IN  MISSISSIPPI 

Look  heah,  sah,  don't  you  want  to  buy  some  cot- 

ton?     Yes,  you  do; 
Dere  's  oder  people  wants  it,  but  I  'd  rader  sell  to 

you. 
How  much?     Oh,  jes  a  bale — dat  on  de  wagon 

in  de  street— 
Dis  heah  's  de  sample, — dis  cotton  's  mighty  hard 

to  beat ! 

You  '11  fin'  it  on  de  paper,  what  de  offers  is  dat 's 

made; 
Dey  's  all  de  same  seditions, — half  in  cash,  half 

in  trade. 
Dey 's  mighty  low,   sah;  come,   now,  can't  you 

'prove  upon  de  rates 
Dat  Barrot  Brothers  offers — only  twelb  an'  seben- 

eights? 


Lord,  Mahsr  Johnny,  raise  it!     Don't  you  know 
dat  I 's  a  frien', 

29 


'What!   de  cotton  ain't  de  same" 


BUSINESS  IN  MISSISSIPPI 

An'  when  I  has  de  money  I  is  willin'  fur  to  spert  ? 
My  custom's  wuff  a  heap,  sah;  jes  you  buy  de 
bale  an'  see. 


Dere  did  n't  nebber  nobody  lose  nuffin  off  ob  me. 
Now,  what 's  de  use  ob  gwine  dere  an'  a-zaminin' 

ob  de  bale? 
When  people  trades  wid  me  dey  alluz  gits  an 

hones'  sale; 
I  ain't  no  han'  fur  cheatin';  I  beliebes  in  actin' 

fa'r, 
An'    ebry-body  '11    tell   you   dey   alluz   foun'    me 

squar'. 


I  is  n't  like  some  niggers;  I  declar'  it  is  a  shame 
De  way  some  ob  dem  swin'les — What!  de  cotton 

ain't  de  same 
As  dat  's  in  de  sample !     Well,  I  'm  blest,  sah,  ef 

it  is! 

31 


BUSINESS  IN  MISSISSIPPI 

Dis  heah  must  be  my  brudder's  sample — Yes,  sah, 
dis  is  his. 


If  dat  don't  beat  creation !     Heah  I  've  done  been 

totin'  'round 
A  sample  different  from  de  cotton!     I — will — be 

— consound ! 
Mahsr  Johnny,   you  must  'scuse  me.     Take  de 

cotton  as  it  Stan's, 

An'  tell  me  ef  you  're  willin'  fur  to  take  it  off  my 
han's. 

I 

Sho!  nebber  min'  de  auger!  'tain't  a  bit  o'  use  to 

bore; 
De  bale  is  all  de  same  's  dis  heah  place  de  baggin  's 

tore; 
You  ought  n't  to  go  pullin'  out  de  cotton  dat  a- 

way; 
It  spiles  de  beauty  ob  de — What,  sah !  rocks  in  dar, 

you  say ! 

32 


BUSINESS  IN  MISSISSIPPI 

Rocks  in  dat  ar  cotton!  How  de  debbil  kin  dat 
be*? 

I  packed  dat  bale  myse'f — hoi'  on  a  minute,  le' — 
me — see — 

My  stars !  I  mus'  be  crazy !  Mahsr  Johnny,  dis 
is  fine! 

I 's  gone  an'  hauled  my  brudder's  cotton  in,  in 
stead  ob  mine! 


33 


SELLING  A  DOG 

H'YAR,  Pot-liquor!     What  you  at?     You 
heahmecallin'you? 
H'yar,   sah!     Come   an'   tell   dis   little   gemmen 

howdy-do  ! 
Dar,  sah,  ain't  dat  puppy  jes  as  fat  as  he  kin  roll? 

Maybe  you  won't  b'liebe  it,  but  he  's  only  six 
mon's  oP  ! 

'Coon  dog?     Lord!  young  marster,  he's  jes  at 

'em  all  de  while; 

I  b'liebe  dat  he  kin  smell  a  'coon  fur  half-a-mile. 
I  don'  like  to  sell  him,  fur  he  5s  wuf  his  weight  in 

goP; 

If  you  did  n't  want  him,  sah,  he  nebber  should  be 


If  you  takes  him  off  wid  you,  I  '11  feel  like  I  wuz 
lost. 


SELLING  A  DOG 

He 's   de   bes'   young  fightin'-dog  I   ebber  come 

acrost. 
Jes  look  at  dem  eyes,  young  marster;  what  a  sab- 

bage  face! 
He  won't  let  no  stranger  nigger  come  about  de 

place. 

You  know  Henry  Wilson's  Bob,   dat  whipped 

your  fader's  Dan4? 
Pot-liquor  jes  chucked  dat  dog  so  bad  he  could  n't 

stan' ! 
Well,  sah,  if  you  wants  him,  now  I  '11  tell  you 

what  I  '11  do,— 
You  kin  hab  him  fur  a  dollar,  seein's  how  it 's 

you. 

Now,   Marster  Will,   you  knows  it — he 's  wuf 

mo'n  dat,  a  heap; 

R'al'y,  I 's  a-doin'  wrong  to  let  him  go  so  cheap. 
Don't  you  tell  nobody,  now,  what  wuz  de  price 

you  paid — 

35 


SELLING  A  DOG 

My  ol'  'oman  's  gwine  to  gib  me  tits,  sah,  I 's 
afraid ! 


T'anks  you,  sah  !     Good-mornin',  sah !     You  tell 

yo'  ma,  fur  me, 

I  has  got  de  fines'  turkeys  dat  she  ebber  see; 
Dey  is  jes  as  good  as  any  pusson  ebber  eat. 
If  she  wants  a  gobbler,  let  her  sen'  to  Uncle  Pete. 

Dar!     I 's  done  got  rid  of  dat  ar  wretched  dog 


at  las' ! 


Drownin'  time  wuz  comin'  fur  him  mighty  pre 
cious  fas' ! 

Sol'  him  fur  a  dollar — well !  An'  goodness 
knows  de  pup 

Is  n't  wuf  de  powder  it  'd  take  to  blow  him  up ! 


I  1 

UNCLE  NICK  ON  FISHING 

IT  alluz  sets  me  laughin',  when  I  happens  to  be 
roun5, 
To  see  a  lot  ob  gemmen  come  a-fishin'  from  de 

town! 
Dey   waits   tell   arter  bre'kfus'    'fore   dey   ebber 

makes  a  start, 

An'  den  you  sees  'em  comin'  in  a  leetle  Jarsey 
kyart. 

Now,    Jarsey   kyarts    is   springy- — so,    to   hab   a 

studdy  seat, 
De  gemmen  's  'bliged  to  ballus  her  wid  suffin  good 

to  eat; 
An'   Jarsey  kyarts   runs  better — so  de  gemmen 

seems  to  think — 
By   totin'   'long  a  demijohn   of  suffin   good   to 

drink. 

37 


UNCLE  NICK  ON  FISHING 

When  dey  gits  at  de  fishin'  place,  it 's  'stonishin' 

indeed — 

Sech  tricks  to  go  a-fishin'  wid  nobody  nebber  seed ! 
Dey  poles  is  put  togedder  wid  a  dozen  j'ints  ob 

tin, 
An'  has  a  block-an'-tickle  fur  to  wind  de  fishes  in ! 


De  gemmens  makes  a  heap  o'  fuss,  an'  skeers  de 

fishes  off; 
An'  den  dey  takes  an'  sots  de  poles,  some  place  de 

bankissof; 
An'  den  dey  hunts  a  shady  place,  an'  settles  on 

de  grass, 
An'  pruzently  you  heahs  'em:     "Dat  a  spade?     I 

has  to  pass!" 
i 

St.  Petah  wuz  a  fisherman,   an'  understood  his 

trade; 
He  staid  an'  watched  his  cork,  instid  ob  laz'in'  in 

de  shade. 

38 


UNCLE  NICK  ON  FISHING 

De  gernmen  is  copyin'  arter  him — dey  better  be ! 
Qr — i>s  a  science  fisherman — 't 'u'd  do  to  copy 
me. 


When  I  starts  out  a-fishin',  I  puts  on  my  ol'est 
clo'es — 

Dey  age  is  putty  tol'able,  you  'd  nat'rally  sup 
pose! 

I  gits  up  in  de  mohnin',  long  afore  de  sun  has  riz, 

An'  grabbles  wums,  I  tell  you! — like  the  yurly 
bird  I  is. 


I 's  alluz  berry  'tic'lar  'bout  de  season  ob  de  moon : 
De  dark  ob  it  is  fishin'  time — an'  time  for  huntin' 

'coon ; 
An'  I 's  be'n  fishin'  nuff  to  know,  as  notus  mus' 

be  tuk 
Ob  vari's  leetle  sarcumstances  bearin'  on  de  luck: 


39 


UNCLE  NICK  ON  FISHING 

You  has  to  spit  upon  de  bait,  afore  you  draps 

it  in; 
Mus'  keep  3-0'  cork  a-bobbin', — des  as  easy  as  you 

kin; 


"You  mus'  keep  yo'  cork  a-bobbin'  " 

Ef  some  one  steps  acrost  yo'  pole,   yo'   luck  is 

shorely  broke, 
Widout  dey  steps  it  back  ag'in,  afore  a  word  is 

spoke. 

1 

Untel  you  quits  a-nshin',  don't  you  nebber  count 

yo'  string; 

40 


1 


1 


I 


UNCLE  NICK  ON  FISHING 

Fur  ef  you  do,  you  's  sartin  not  to  cotch  anodcr 
thing; 

But  ef  a  sarpent-doctor  bug  sh'u'd  'light  upon  de 

pole, 
You  knows  you  's  good  fur  cotchin'  all  de  fishes 

in  de  hole. 

Dar,  now !  you  's  got  de  1'arnin'  what  a  fisherman 

sh'u'd  know; 
So,  when  you  's  ready,  all  you  has  to  do  's  to  up 

an'  go, 
An'  f oiler  dem  instruckshums — ef  you  does  it,  to 

de  notch, 
Good  Marster!  won't  it  s'prise  de  folks  to  see  de 

mess  you  cotch ! 


NORVERN  PEOPLE 

DEM  folks  in  de  Norf  is  de  beatin'est  lot! 
Wid  all  de  brass  buttons  an'  fixin's  dey 

got— 

You  need  n't  tole  me ! — dey  all  dresses  in  blue: 
I  seed  'em  de  time  'at  Grant's  army  come  froo. 

Dey  libs  up  de  country,  whar  ellyphunts  grows, 
Somewhar  'bout  de  head  ob  de  ribber,  I  s'pose; 
Whar  snow  keeps  a-drappin',  spring,  winter,  an' 

fall, 
An'  summer-time  don't  nebber  get  dar  at  all. 

I 

Up  dar  in  dey  town  dar  's  a  mighty  great  hole 
Dey  dug  fur  to  git  at  de  silber  and  gol' : 
I  reckon  heah  lately  it  mus'  ha'  cabed  in — 
I  wish  I  c'u'd  see  a  good  two-bits  ag'in! 


NORVERN  PEOPLE 

Dey  puts  up  supplies  for  us  Christuns  to  eat,— 
De  whiskey,  de  flouah,  de  meal,  an'  de  meat ; 
Dey  Js  dreffle  big-feelin',  an'  makes  a  great  fuss, 
But  dey  can't  git  along  widout  wukin'  for  us. 

I  would  n't  be  dem,  not  fur  all  you  c'u'd  gib: 
Dey  nebber  tas'e  'possum  as  long  as  dey  lib! 
Dey  w'u'd  n't  know  gumbo,  ef  put  in  dey  mouf — 
Why  don't  dey  all  sell  out  an'  come  to  de  Souf  ? 

But  lawsy!  dey 's  ign'ant  as  ign'ant  kin  be, 
An'  ain't  got  de  presence  ob  min'  fur  to  see 
Dat  ol'  Marsissippi  's  jes  ober  de  fence 
Dat  runs  aroun'  hebben's  sarcumferymence ! 

Now,  us  dat  is  fabored  wid  de  wisdom  an'  grace, 
An'  had  de  fus'  pick  fur  a  'sirable  place, 
We  ought  fur  to  'member  de  duty  we  owes, 
To  sheer  wid  our  brudders  as  fur  as  it  goes. 

43 


NORVERN  PEOPLE 

So  sometime  in  chu'ch  I 's  a-gwine  to  serjes 
Dat  some-un  be  sent  what  kin  talk  to  'em  bes' — 
(An'  mebbe  dat  's  me)  fur  to  open  deir  eyes, 
Recomstmc  de  pore  critters,  an'  help  'em  to  rise. 

We  '11  fotch  'em  down  heah,  de  las'  one  ob  de 

batch, 

An'  treat  'em  like  gemmen,  an'  rent  'em  a  patch — 
Why,  dat 's  de  Merlennium !  Dat 's  what  it  am ; 
An'  us  is  de  lion,  an'  dey  is  de  lamb ! 

S 


XTV 


44 


Su  (M 

1  I 

I 


WHEREFORE  HE  PRAYS  THAT  A 
WARRANT  MAY  ISSUE 

TS  you  de  jestis  ob  de  peace?     I  has  a  little  case 


I 


About  a  little  matter,  sah,  what  happened  on 

de  place, 
I 's  nuffin  but  a  nigger,  but  has  feelin's,  all  de 

same, 
An'  de  way  dat  Mahsr  Henry  went  an'  done  me 

wuz  a  shame. 


Las'  spring  I  foun'  a  little  chicken  runnin'  in  de 

road; 

I  tuk  it  to  de  quarters,  an'  kep'  it  till  it  growed. 
I  nebber  stole  it;  kase  de  law  sez  ebrythin'  you 

fin' 
Belongs  to  you;  an'  so,  ob  co'se,  dat  chicken,  he 

wuz  mine. 

45 


'Las'  spring  I  foun'  a  little  chicken  runnin'  in  de  road' 


WHEREFORE  HE  PRAYS 

A  week  dis  comin'  Thu'sday,  I  was  comin'  from  de 

fid', 
An'  happened  fur  to  'member  I  wuz  out  ob  meat 

an'   meal ; 
So  I  begins  to  study  'bout  what  I 's  a-gwine  to 

do— 
An'   thinks,   sez   I,    "Dat  chicken 's   shorely  big 

enough  to  stew." 

When  I  gits  to  de  quarters,  den  I  sez  unto  my 

wife, — 
I  would  n't  tell  a  lie  to  you,  sah,  not  to  sabe  my 

life,— 
"Hey,  Phyllis,  gal,"  sez  I,  des  so,  "run  out  dar  in 

de  lot, 
An'  cotch  dat  Dominica  fur  to  bile  him  in  de  pot." 

Sez  she  to  me,  "I  'low  myse'f,  he  would  eat  tol'ble 

good; 
But  how  I  gwine  to  cook  him,  when  I  is  n't  got 

no  wood  9" 

47 


WHEREFORE  HE  PRAYS 

Dat  wuz  de  conbersatiorm,  sah ;  I  gibe  it  word  fur 

word,  | 

An'  Phyllis  she  can  testify  as  dat  wuz  what  oc 
curred. 


Sez  I,  "You  kill  de  chicken.     Does  you  think  I  's 

los'  my  sense?" 
An'  I  went  to  Mahsr's  wood-pile,  in  de  corner  ob 

de  fence. 
I  looked  an'   did  n't  see  nobody,   heard  nobody 

speak, 

//vl 

An'  so  I  toted  off  enough  to  do  me  fur  a  week. 

I  nebber  thought  ob  steal  in'  when  I  tuk  dat  wood 


awa, 


For  ebry  stick  I  'spected  to  return  some  oder  day; 
An'  ef  a  man  cain't  borry  wood  what  's  layin'  out 

ob  nights, 
I  'd  like  fur  you  to  tell  me  what  's  the  good  ob 

swivel  rights? 


"An'  me  an'  Phyllis  had  important  bizness  at  de  doah" 


WHEREFORE  HE  PRAYS 

Well !  Phyllis  picked  de  chicken,  an'  she  soused 

him  in  de  pot; 

De  fire  wuz  burnin'  an'  de  water  gittin'  hot; 
When  somefin  went  boo-room !  boo-room !  right  in 

de  chimney-place, 
An'  all  de  fire  an'  ashes  come  a-scootin'  in  my 

face. 

I  thought  it  was  de  debbil,  an'  it  skeered  me  'mos' 

to  defT; 
De  smoke  puffed  out  so  hebby  I  could  skacely 

draw  my  breff ; 
De  wood,  de  pot,  de  chicken,  dey  went  flyin'  crost 

de  floah, 
An'  me  an'  Phyllis  had  important  bizness  at  de 

doah. 

De  folks  dey  come  a-runnin';  dar  wuz  Bob  an' 

Pete  an'  Bill; 
An'  heah  come  Mahsr  Henry  des  a-laughin'  fit 

to  kill- 

50 


WHEREFORE  HE  PRAYS 

Sez  he,   "I  knowed,  you  rascal,  you  wuz  takin' 

wood  away, 
An'  I  put  a  poun'  o'  powder  in  a  holler  stick  to- 

day." 

Dat  's  why  I  want  a  warrant,  sari;  my  rights  is  all 

I  ax, 

An'  I  has  lots  o'  witnesses  to  summons  to  de  fac's. 
I  scorns  to  be  imposed  on;  an'  I  'peals  unto  de  law 
To  go  fur  Mahsr  Henry,  sah,  an'  bring  him  up 

to  taw. 


"Yoah  Honah,  an'  de  jury" 


Y 


THE  MISSISSIPPI  WITNESS 

"OAH  HONAH,  AN'   DE  JURY:     Ef  you'll 
JL          listen,  now,  to  me, 
I 's  gwine  to  straighten  up  dis  case  jes  like  it 

ought  to  be. 
Dis  heah's   a  case   ob   stealin'   hogs — a  mighty 

ser'ous  'fense— 
An'  you  '11  know  all  about  it,  when  I  gibs  my 

ebbydence. 

Dis  Peter  Jones,  de  plainter,  is  a  member  ob  de 

chu'ch, 
But  Thomas  Green,  de  fender,  goodness  knows 

he  's  nuffin  much; 
A    lazy,    triflin'    nigger    is    dat    berry    Thomas 

Green — 
Dese  is  de  dif'rent  parties  you  is  called  to  jedge 

atween. 

53 


THE  MISSISSIPPI  WITNESS 

Now  gib  me  stric'  contention  while  I  'lucidates  de 


*"" 

Dere  's  two  whole  sides  to  eberyt'ing, — de  front 

one  an'  de  back, — 
What  Js  dat  de  little  lawyer  say?     To  talk  about 

de  case? 
Dat's  jes  what  I  wuz  comin'  to;  you  makes  me 

lose  de  place. 

Whar  wuz  I?  Oh!  I  'members;  I  wuz  jes  about 
to  say, 

I  heered  a  disputation  'bout  a  p'int  of  law  to 
day; 

'Bout  how  to  turn  State's  ebbydence — dat 's 
what  dey  's  dribin'  at — 

Now  ain't  it  strange  some  niggers  is  so  ignorant  as 
dat? 


Why,   when  you  wants  to  turn  it,  you  jes  has 
to  come  to  town, 

54 


m-r-r-r*      •*  ir  TO  O  TO  O  T  T-»T»T      \  t  TTT'XT  T7C  C 


THE  MISSISSIPPI  WITNESS 


I 

An'  find  de  Deestric  Turner — he  '11  be  somewhar 

loafin'  'roun' — 
AnJ  den  sez  you,  "Mahsr  Turner,  sah,  I  zires  my 

compliments ; 
I 's  come  in  town  to  see  you,  fur  to  turn  State's 

ebbydence." 


As  soon  's  you  tells  him  dat,  he  knows  perzackly 

what  you  mean, 
An'  takes  you  to  his  office,  whar  he  's  got  a  big 

mersheen, 
An'  dar  you  cotches  hoi'  de  crank,  an'  den  you 

turns  away, 
Untel  at  las'  dar  's  somefin  clicks,  an'  den  you  's 

come  to  A. 


"Is  dat  der  letter  of  de  thing  de  feller  done?'  sez 

he; 
Ef  you  sez  no,  you  turns  ag'in  untel  you  comes 

to  B; 

55 


THE  MISSISSIPPI  WITNESS 

An'  so  you  keep  a-turnin',  tell  de  right  one  gits 

aroun', 
An'  dar  de  Deestric  Turner  looks,  an'  dar  de  law 

is  foun'. 

I  1 

An'  den  you  gibs  de  fac's,  an'  den  he  reads  the  law 

to  you, 
An'  axes  you  to  'vise  him  what  you  t'ink  he  ought 

to  do; 
An'  den  he  say  "good-mornin',"  an'  he  gibs  you 

fifty  cents, 
An'  dat  's  de  way  you  has  to  do  to  turn  State's 

ebbydence. 

Well,  gemmen  ob  de  jury,  dis  heah  case  is  under 
stood. 

I  does  n't  knoiv  de  hog  wuz  stole,  but  Peter's  word 
is  good. 

He  up  an'  sesso  manfully,  dout  makin'  any  bones; 

An'  darfore,  sahs,  ef  I  wuz  you,  I  t'ink  I  'd  'cide 


for  Jones. 

56 


BLIND  NED 

WHO  is  dat  ar  a-playin'  ?    Shucks !    I  wish 
Iwuzn'tblin'; 
But  when  de  Lord  he  tuk  my  eyes,  he  lef  my 

yeahs  behin'. 
Is  dat  you,  Mahsr  Bob?     I  fought  I  reco'nized 

your  bowin'; 

I  said  I  knowed  't  was  you,  soon  's  I  heered  de 
fiddle  goin'. 

Sho!  dat  ain't  right!  jes  le'  me  show  you  how  to 

play  dat  tune; 
I  feel  like  I  could  make  de  fiddle  talk  dis  arter- 

noon. 
Now  don't  you  see  that  counter  's  jes  a  leetle  bit 

too  high? 
Well,  nebber  min' ;  I  guess  you  '11  learn  to  tune 

her  by  an'  by. 

57 


BLIND  NED 

You  's  jes  like  all  musicianers  dat  learns  to  play 

by  note : 
You  ain't  got  music  in  you,  so  you  has  to  hab  it 

wrote. 
Now  dat  ain't  science — why  de  debbil  don't  you 

play  by  yeah? 
For  dat's  de  onlies'  kin'  ob  music  ntten'  fur  to 

heah. 


Do  you  suppose,  when  David  wuz  a-pickin'  pn 

de  harp, 
He  ebber  knowed  de  difference  atwixt  a  flat  an' 

sharp? 
But  any  tune  you  called  fur,  he  could  pick  it  all 

de  same, 
For  David  knowed  de  music,  dough  he  did  n't 

know  de  name. 


Now  what  shall  I  begin  on?     Somefm  lively,  fas', 
an'  quick? 

58 


1 


"Is  dat  you,  Mahsr  Bob?" 


BLIND  NED 

Well,   sah,  jes  pay  attention,   an'   I  '11  gib  you 

"Cap'n  Dick." 
Yah!  yah!  young  mahsr,  don't  you  feel  jes  like 

you  want  to  pat? 
You  '11  hab  to  practice  fur  a  while  afore  you  ekals 

dat! 

Dere  ain't  nobody  'roun'  dis  place  kin  play  wid 

Uncle  Ned; 
Dey  is  n't  got  it  in  dere  fingers,  neider  in  deir 

head; 
Dat  fiddler  Bill  dey  talks  about — I  heered  him 

play  a  piece, 
An'  I  declar'   it  sounded  like  a  fox  among  de 

geese. 

A  violeen  is  like  an  'ooman,  mighty  hard  to  guide, 
An'  mighty  hard  to  keep  in  order  arter  once  it 's 

buyed. 
Dere  's  alluz  somefin  'bout  it  out  of  kelter,  more 

or  less, 

60 


BLIND  NED 

An'  tain't  de  f ancles' -lookin'  ones  dat  allus  does 
de  bes'. 


Dis  yer  's  a  splendid  inst'ument — I  'spec'  it  cost  a 

heap; 
You  r'al'y  ought  to  let  me  hab  dis  fiddle  fur  to 

keep. 
It  ain't  no  use  to  you,  sah;  fur,  widout  it 's  in  de 

man, 
He  cain't  git  music  out  de  fines'  fiddle  in  de  Ian'. 


It  'quires  a  power  ob  science  fur  to  fiddle,  sah,  you 

see, 
An'  science  comes  by  natur' ;  dat 's  de  way  it  is  wid 

me. 
But  Lord!  dat  Bill!  It  'muses  me  to  heah  him 

talkin'  big; 
You  never  heered  a  braggin'  fiddler  play  a  decent 


jig! 


61 


BLIND  NED 

Dat  Bill,  he  is  a  caution,  sah !     I  wonder  now 
whar  he 

An'  oder  folks  I  knows  of — 
yes,  I  wonder  whar  '11 
dey  be 

In  hebben,  when  de  music's 
playin',  an'  de  angels 
shout — 

If  Bill  should  jine  de  chorus, 
k\  dey    would    hab    to   put 

him  out. 

Dat  Bill 

Well,  good-by,  Mahsr  Bob,  sah ;  when  you  's  nuffin 

else  to  do 
Jes  sen'  fur  dis  ol'  darky,  an'  he  '11  come  an'  play 

fur  you; 
An'    don't   gib   up   your   practisin' — you 's   only 

sebenteen, 
An'  maybe  when  you  's  ol'  as  me  you  '11  play  the 

violeen. 


62 


^aajy^yyVyv^Sj^^ 


MAHSR  JOHN 

IHEAHS  a  heap  o'  people  talkin',  ebrywhar  I 
goes, 
'Bout  Washintum  an'  Franklum,  an'  sech  gen'uses 

as  dose; 
I  s'pose  dey  's  mighty  fine,  but  heah  's  de  p'int 

I 's  bettin'  on  : 

Dere  wuz  n't  nar  a  one  ob  'em  come  up  to  Mahsr 
John. 

He  shorely  wuz  de  greates'  man  de  country  ebber 

growed. 
You  better  had  git  out  de  way  when  he  come  'long 

de  road! 
He  hel'  his  head  up  dis  way,  like  he  'spised  to  see 

de  groun'; 
An'  niggers  had  to  toe  de  mark  when  Mahsr  John 

wuz  roun'. 


MAHSR  JOHN 

I  only  has  to  shet  my  eyes,  an'  den  it  seems  to  me 
I  sees  him  right  afore  me  now,  jes  like  he  use' 

to  be, 

A-settin'  on  de  gal'ry,  lookin'  awful  big  an'  wise, 
Wid  little  niggers  fannin'  him  to  keep  away  de 

flies. 

He  alluz  wore  de  berry  bes'  ob  planters'   linen 

suits, 

An'  kep'  a  nigger  busy  jes  a-blackin'  ob  his  boots; 
De  buckles  on  his  galluses  wuz  made  of  solid  gol', 
An'  diamon's! — dey  wuz  in  his  shut  as  thick  as 

it  would  hoi'. 

You  heered  me!  'twas  a  caution,  when  he  went 

to  take  a  ride, 
To  see  him  in  de  kerridge,  wid  ol'  Mistis  by  his 

side — 

Mulatter  Bill  a-dribin',  an'  a  nigger  on  behin', 
An'  two  Kaintucky  bosses  tuk  'em  tearin'  whar 

dey  gwine. 


Mulatter  Bill  a-dribin' 


MAHSR  JOHN 

OP  Mahsr  John  wuz  pow'ful  rich — he  owned  a 

heap  o'  Ian' : 
Fibe    cotton    places,    'sides    a    sugar    place    in 

Loozyan' ; 
He  had  a  thousan'  niggers — an'  he  wuked  'em, 

shore  's  you  born ! 
De  oberseahs  'u'd  start  'em  at  de  breakin'  ob  de 

morn. 


I  reckon  dere  wuz  forty  ob  de  niggers,  young  an' 

or,  I 

Dat  staid  about  de  big  house  jes  to  do  what  dey 

wuz  to? ; 

. 

Dey  had  a'  easy  time,  wid  skacely  any  work  at 

ail- 
But  dey  had  to  come  a-runnin'  when  ol'  Mahsr 

John  'u'd  call! 

>*y 


Sometimes  he  'd  gib  a  frolic — dat  's  de  time  you 
seed  de  fun: 

66 


MAHSR  JOHN 

De  'ristocratic  fam'lies,  dey  'u'd  be  dar,  ebry  one; 
Dey  'd  hab  a  band  from  New  Orleans  to  play 

for  'em  to  dance, 
An'  tell  you  what,  de  supper  wuz  a  'tic'lar  sar- 

cumstance. 


Well,  times  is  changed.     De  war  it  come  an'  sot 

de  niggers  free, 
An'  now  ol'  Mahsr  John  ain't  hardly  wuf  as  much 

as  me; 
He  had  to  pay  his  debts,  an'  so  his  Ian'  is  mos'ly 

gone — 
An'   I  declar'   I 's  sorry  for  my  pore  ol'  Mahsr 

John. 


But  when  I  heahs  'em  talkin'  'bout  some  sully- 

brated  man, 
I  listens  to  'em  quiet,  till  dey  done  said  all  dey 

can, 


MAHSR  JOHN 

An'  den  I  'lows  dot  in  dem  days  'at  I  remembers 

on, 
Dat  gemman  war  n't  a  patchin'  onto  my  ol'  Mahsr 

John! 


68 


PRECEPTS  AT  PARTING 

WELL,  son,  so  you  's  gwine  for  to  leab  us, 
yo'  lubbin'  ol'  mammy  an'  me, 
An'  set  yo'se'f  up  as  a  waiter,  aboa'd  ob  de  Robbut 

E.  Lee, 
Along   wid    dem    fancy   young   niggers,    what 's 

'shamed  fur  to  look  at  a  hoe, 
An'  acts  like  a  passel  ob  rich  folks,  when  dey 
is  n't  got  nuffin  to  show. 

You  's  had  better  trainin'  dan  dey  has — I  hopes 

'at  you  '11  zibit  more  sense; 
Sech  niggers  is  like  a  young  rooster,  a-settin'  up 

top  ob  a  fence: 
He  keeps  on  a-stretchin'  an'  crowin',  an',  while 

he  's  a-blowin'  his  horn, 
Dem  chickens  what  ain't  arter  fussin'  is  pickin' 

up  all  ob  de  corn. 


PRECEPTS  AT  PARTING 

Now  listen,  an'  min'  what  I  tell  you,  an'  don't 

you  forgit  what  I  say; 
Take  advice  ob  a  'sperienced  pussen,  an'  you  '11 

git  up  de  ladder  an'  stay: 
Who  knows?     You  mought  git  to 
be  Pres'dent,  or  jestice,  per 
haps,  ob  de  peace — 
De    man    what    keeps    pullin'    de 
grape-vine  shakes  down  a  few 
bunches  at  leas.' 

Dem    niggers    what    runs    on    de 
ribber    is    mos'ly    a    mighty 
sharp  set; 
Dey  'd  find  out  some  way  fur  to  beat  you,  ef  you 

bet  'em  de  water  wuz  wet; 
You 's  got  to  watch  out  for  dem  fellers;  dey 'd 

cheat  off  de  horns  ob  a  cow. 

I  knows  'em;  I  follered  de  ribber  'fore  ebber  I 
follered  a  plow. 


70 


A-stretchin'  an' 
crowin' 


PRECEPTS  AT  PARTING 

You  '11  easy  git  'long  wid  de  white  folks,  —  de 

Cappen  an'  steward  an'  clerks,  — 
Dey  won't  say  a  word  to  a  nigger,  as  long  as  dey 

notice  he  works; 
An'  work  is  de  onlies'  ingine  we  's  any  'casion  to 

tote, 
To  keep  us  gwine  on  troo  de  currents  dat  pesters 


de  spirichul  boat. 

I  heered  dat  idee  from  a  preacher;  he  'lowed  'at 

dis  life  wuz  a  stream, 
An'  ebry  one's  soul  wuz  a  packet  dat  run  wid  a 

full  head  ob  steam; 
Dat   some   ob   'em  's   only  stern-wheelers,   while 

oders  wuz  mons'ously  fine— 
An'  de  trip  wuz  made  safes'  an'  quickes'  by  boats 

ob  de  Mefodis  line. 


I  wants  you,  my  son,  to  be  'tic'lar,  an'  'sociate 
only  wid  dey 


PRECEPTS  AT  PARTING 

Dat  's  'titled  to  go  in  de  cabin — don't  neber  hab 
nuffin  to  say 


"But  nebber  git  airy" 

To    dem    low-minded    roustabout    niggers    what 

han'les  de  cotton  below — 
Dem  common  brack  rascals  ain't  fittin'   for  no 

cabin-waiter  to  know. 

72 


PRECEPTS  AT  PARTING 

But  nebber  git  airy:  be  'spectful  to  all  de  white 

people  you  see; 
An'  nebber  go  back  on  de  raisin'  you  's  had  from 

your  mammy  an'  me. 
It 's  hard  on  your  mudder,  your  leabin' — I  don' 

know  whatebber  she  '11  do; 
An'  shorely  your  fadder  '11  miss  you— I  '11  alluz 

be  thinkin'  ob  you. 

Well,  now  I 's  done  tol'  you  my  say-so.    Dar  ain't 
nuffin  more  as  I  knows— 

'Cept    dis:    don't    you    nebber    come    back,    sah, 

.  , 
widout  you  has  money  an'  clo'es. 

I 's  kep'  you  as  long  as  I 's  gwine  to,  an'  now 

you  an'  me  we  is  done — 
An'  calves  is  too  skace  in  dis  country  to  kill  fur 

a  prodigal  son. 


. 

73 


HALF-WAY  DOIN'S 


B 


ELUBBED     fellah-trabelers :— In     holdin' 

forth  to-day, 
I  does  n't  quote  no  special  verse  fur  whut  I  has  to 

say; 
De  sermon  will  be  berry  short,  an'  dis  here  am 

de  tex': 
Dat  half-way  doin's  ain't  no  'count  fur  dis  worP 

or  de  nex'. 


Dis  worP  dat  we  's  a-libbin'  in  is  like  a  cotton- 


row, 

Whar  ebery  cullud  gentleman  has  got  his  line  to 

, 
hoe; 

An'  ebery  time  a  lazy  nigger  stops  to  take  a  nap, 
De  grass  keeps  on  a-growin'  fur  to  smudder  up 
his  crap. 

74 


HALF-WAY  DOIN'S 

When  Moses  led  de  Jews  acrost  de  waters  ob  de 

sea, 
Dey  had  to  keep  a-goin'  jes  as  fas'  as  fas'  could 

be; 
Do  you  s'pose  dat  dey  could  ebber  hab  succeeded 

in  deir  wish, 
An'  reached  de  Promised  Lan'  at  las'— if  dey  had 

stopped  to  fish? 

My  frien's,  dar  wuz  a  garden  once,  whar  Adam 
libbed  wid  Eve, 

Wid  no  one  'roun'  to  bodder  dem,  no  neighbors 
fur  to  thieve; 

An'  ebery  day  wuz  Christmus,  an'  dey  got  deir 
rations  free, 

An'  ebery t' ing  belong  to  dem  except  an  apple- 
tree. 

You  all  know  'bout  de  story — how  de  snake  come 
snoopin'  'roun',— 

75 


HALF-WAY  DOIN'S 

A   stump-tail   rusty  moccasin,   a-crawlin'   on  de 

groun',— 
How  Eve  an'  Adam  ate  de  fruit  an'  went  an'  hid 

deir  face, 
Till  de  angel  oberseer,  he  come  an'  drove  'em  off 

de  place. 

Now,  s'pose  dat  man  an'  'ooman  had  n't  'tempted 


fur  to  shirk, 
But  had.  gone  about  deir  gardenin',  an'  'tended  to 

deir  work, 
Dey  would  n't  hab  been  loafin'  whar  dey  had  no 


business  to, 

An'  de  debbil  nebber  'd  got  a  chance  to  tell  'em 

b 

whut  to  do. 


No  half-way  doin's,  bredren !     It  '11  nebber  do, 

I   say! 
Go  at  your  task  an'  finish  it,  an'  den  's  de  time 

to  play; 

r 

76 


HALF-WAY  DOIN'S 

Fur  eben  if  de  crap  is  good,  de  rain  '11  spile  the 

bolls, 
Unless  you  keeps  a-pickin'  in  de  garden  ob  yo' 

souls. 

Keep   a-plowin',   an'    a-hoein',    an'   a-scrapin'   ob 

de  rows, 
An'  when  de  ginnin  's  ober  you  can  pay  up  whut 

you  owes ; 
But  if  you  quits  a-workin'  ebery  time  de  sun  is 

hot, 


'Keep  a-hoein'   an'  a-scrapin' 

77 


HALF-WAY  DOIN'S 

De  sheriff  's  gwine  to  lebby  upon  eberyt'ing  you  's 
got. 

VVhuteber  'tis  you  's  dribin'  at,  be  shore  an'  dribe 

it  through, 
An'  don't  let  nuffin  stop  you,  but  do  whut  you  's 

gwine  to  do; 
Fur  when  you  sees  a  nigger  foolin',  den,  as  shore  's 

you  're  born, 
You  's  gwine  to  see  him  comin'  out  de  small  eend 

ob  de  horn. 

I  thanks  you  for  de  'tention  you  has  gib  dis  aft 
ernoon — 

Sister  Williams  will  oblige  us  by  a-raisin'  ob  a 
tune — 

I  see  dat  Brudder  Johnson  's  'bout  to  pass  aroun' 
de  hat, 

An'  don't  let 's  hab  no  half-way  doin's  when  it 
comes  to  dat! 


rggggS^gya^ywvww^ 


A  SERMON  FOR  THE  SISTERS 


T   NEBBER  breaks  a  colt  afore  he  's  old  enough 


I 


to  trabbel ; 
I  nebber  digs  my  taters  tell  dey  plenty  big  to 

grabble. 
An'  when  you  sees  me  risin'  up  to  structify  in 

meetin', 
I 's  fust  dumb  up  de  knowledge-tree   an'   done 

some  apple-eat  in'. 

I  sees  some  sistahs  pruzint,  mighty  proud  o'  whut 

dey  wearin' : 
It 's  well  you   is  n't  apples,  now,   you  better  be 

declarin' ! 
Fur  when  ye  heerd  yo'  market-price,   't  'd  hurt 

yo'  little  feelin's: 
You  would  n't  fotch  a  dime  a  peck,  fur  all  yo' 

fancy  peel  in' s. 

79 


A  SERMON  FOR  THE  SISTERS 

0  sistahs! — leetle    apples     (fur    you're    r'ally 

mighty  like  'em)— 

1  lubs  de  ol'-time  russets,  dough  it 's  suldom  I 

kin  strike  'em; 
An'  so  I  lubs  you,  sistahs,  fur  yo*  grace,  an'  not 

yo'  graces— 
I  don't  keer  how  my  apple  looks,  but  on'y  how 

it  tas'es. 


Is   dey   a   Sabbaf-scholah   heah?     Den   let   him 

'form  his  mudder 
How   Jacob-in-de-Bible's   boys   played   off  upon 


dey  brudder ! 
Dey  sol'  him  to  a  trader — an'  at  las'  he  struck  de 


prison; 

Dat  corned  ob  Joseph's  struttin'  in  dat  streaked 
coat  ob  his  'n. 

My  Christian  frien's,  dis  story  proobs  dat  eben 

men  is  human — 

• 
80 


i 


faff' 


'I's  fust  dumb  up  de  knowledge-tree" 


A  SERMON  FOR  THE  SISTERS 

He  'd  had  a  dozen  fancy  coats,  ef  he  'd  'a'  been 
a  'ooman! 


De  cussidness  ob  showin'   off,  he  foun'   out  all 

about  it; 
An'  yit  he  wuz  a  Christian  man,  as  good  as  ever 

shouted. 


It  1'arned  him !     An'  I  bet  you  when  he  come  to 

git  his  riches 
Dey  did  n't  go  fur  stylish  coats  or  Philadelphy 

breeches ; 
He  did  n't  was'e  his  money  when  experunce  taught 

him  better, 
But  went  aroun'  a-lookin'  like  he  's  waitin'  fur  a 

letter! 


Now,  sistahs,  won't  you  copy  him?     Say,  won't 

you  take  a  lesson, 
An'  min'  dis  sollum  wahnin'  'bout  de  sin  ob  fancy 

dressin'? 

82 


A  SERMON  FOR  THE  SISTERS 

How  much  you  spen'  upon  yo'self !     I  wish  you 

might  remember 
Yo'  preacher  ain't  been  paid  a  cent  sense  some- 

whar  in  November. 


I  better  close.     I   sees   some  gals  dis   sahmon  's 

kinder  hittin' 
A-whisperin',   an'   'sturbin'   all   dat 's  near   whar 

dey  's   a-sittin' ; 
To  look  at  dem,   an'   listen  at  dey  onrespec'ful 

j  abber, 
It  turns  de  milk  ob  human  kin'ness  mighty  nigh 

to  clabber! 

A-A-A-MEN  ! 


UNCLE  CAP  INTERVIEWED 

GOOD-MORNIN',  Mahsr— thank  you,  sah; 
I 's  tol'able  myself, 
Considerin'  dat  it 's  almos'  time  I 's  laid  upon  de 


uu 

shelf; 


De  onlies'  t'ing  dat  bodders  much  is  right  aroun' 

in  here, 
Dis   mis'ry    in    my    back   dat    won't    recease    to 

persevere. 

An'  so  you  come  to  see  me,  sah,  beca'se  you  hab 

been  tol' 
Dat  I 's  de  oldes'  man  about ^     Yes,  I  is  mighty 

oP! 
A  hundred  an'  eleben  years  dis  comin'  Christmas- 

day- 
I  could  n't  tell  ezzackly,  but  dat 's  whut  people 

say. 


UNCLE  CAP  INTERVIEWED 

When  I  come  to  dis  country  fust  dar  wa'n't  no 

houses  'roun', 
An'  me  an'  my  ole  mahsr  had  to  camp  out  on  de 

groun' ; 
De  fust  house  dat  was  'rected,  sah,  I  helped  in 

raisin'  it — 
Sometimes  I  tries  to  'member  whar  it  sot,  but  I 

forgit. 

1  1 

You  Liza!  ain't  you  nebber  gwine  to  set  dat  pot 

to  bile ! 
Niggers  nebber  was  so  lazy  when  your  fader  was 

a  chile. 
Dat  ar  's  my  youngest  daughter,  sah,  a-washin'  ob 

de  greens; 
She  was  born  de  year  dat  Jackson  fit  de  battle  ob 

Orleans. 

Dey  ain't  wuf  shucks,  dese  young  folks  dat 's  a- 
growin'  up  now'days; 

85 


UNCLE  CAP  INTERVIEWED 

I  nebber  seed  no  niggers  yit  dat  had  such  triflin' 

ways. 
I  b'lieve  dis  country  's  gwine  to  smash — I  knows, 

at  any  rate, 


"Good-mornin',  mahsr;    I 's  tol'able  myself" 

Dat   t'ings   ain't   like   dey   used   to   wuz   in   ole 
Virginny  State. 


So  you  thought  't  was  Souf  Ca'lina,  sah,  whar  I 
was  born  an'  raised? 
86 


UNCLE  CAP  INTERVIEWED 

No !     I  'm  from  ole  Virginny,  an'  fur  dat  de  Lord 

be  praised! 
Virginny  niggers  always  wuz  de  best  dat  you 

could  buy; 
Poor  white  trash  could  n't  git  'em,  'ca'se  de  prices 

wuz  so  high. 

Yes,  sah,  I 's  from  Virginny,  an'  I  reckon  dat  you 

mout 
Have   heerd   of   folks   I   knowed — dey  're   often 

talked  about. 
Bar's    Ginnle    Washin'ton,    fur    one;    he    lived 

acrost  de  road; 
I  s'pect  you  've  heerd  of  him,  sah4?     He* wuz  one 

ob  dem  I  knowed. 


He  rode  about  de  country  on  a  big  old  dapple- 


gray, 

An'  used  to  come  an'  dine  with  mahsr  'bout  ebery 
udder  day ; 

s? 


De  hymn  says:  "John  de  Baptis',  he  wuz  nuffin 

but  a  Jew, 
But  de  Holy  Bible  tells  us  dat  he  wuz  a  preacher 

t00'" 

An'  if  a  'ligious  Jew  can  'mong  de  chosen  few 

advance, 
Dere  shorely  ain't  no  question  but  a  nigger  '11  hab 

a  chance. 


UNCLE  CAP  INTERVIEWED 

De  fines'-lookin'  gentleman  dat  I  mos'  eber  seed — 
He  tried  to  buy  me;  but  old  mahsr  told  him,  "No, 
indeed!" 


Whut  do  I  t'ink  of  freedom?     I  dunno;  it 's  true 

I 's  free, 
But  now  I 's  got  so  awful  old,  whut  good  is  'at 

to  me? 
I  nebber  bodders  'bout  it  much — to  tell  the  troof, 

my  min' 
Is  tuk  up  now  in  t'inkin'  'bout  de  place  whar  I 's 

a-gwine. 


UNCLE  CAP  INTERVIEWED 

I  done  been  had  religion  now  fur  gwine  on  sixty 

year, 
An'    my   troubles    is   'mos'    ober,    fur   de   end   is 

drawin'  near; 
An'  I  know  dat  when  I  mount  de  skies  de  Lord 

will  make  ob  me 
A  young  an'  likely  nigger,  sah,  jus'  like  I  use' 

to  be. 


i 


THE  OLD  HOSTLER'S  EXPERIENCE 


I 


Ah,  Christians,  in  my  foolish  days 


GITS  up  heah — like  good  oP   Paul, 
Obed'ent  to  de  Mahsr's  call — 


To  tell  my  sperunce,  tell  it  all ! 
OP  SHAME  's  put  up; 


An'  I 's  led  GLORY  out  de  stall, 


To  win  de  cup. 


Den,  all  you  sinnahs,  cl'ar  de  track! 
I 's  mounted  on  ol'  GLORY'S  back; 


Her  hufs  is  gwine  ta-click-ta-clack, — 

Daf  's  how  dey  's  gwine ! 
An'  Satan's  rattlin',  shacklin'  hack 

Is  lef  behin'. 

a 


1 

I  rid  de  debbil's  blooded  bays, 
90 


THE  OLD  HOSTLER'S  EXPERIENCE 

PERSUMPCHUS  PRIDE,  an'  WORL'LY  WAYS, 

An'  made  'em  lope; 
But  now  I 's  turned  'em  out  to  graze 

Widout  a  rope. 

Yah !  Yah !  Oh!  how  I  used  to— Well, 
De  'tic'lars  'tain't  no  use  to  tell, 
But  oncet  I  rid  de  road  to  hell 

Wid  nar  a  bit, 
An'  went  two-forty  on  the  shell 

Toward  de  pit. 

Like  Balaam,  when  he  rid  de  ass, 

I  'sisted  on  a-trablin'  fas' ; 

But  't  wuz  a  pace  'at  c'u'd  n't  las', 

An'  I  got  th'owed. 
I  cotch  RELIGION,  trottin'  pas', 

An'  back  I  goed. 


An'  now  I  simply  'vises  you, 
You  deblish  boys  I 's  talkin'  to, 
91 


'An'  now  I  simply  Vises  you" 


THE  OLD  HOSTLER'S  EXPERIENCE 

Don't  nebber  hab  a  thing  to  do 

Wid  Satan's  bosses; 
Dey  '11  buck  an'  fling  you  in  de  sloo, 

Fus  one  you  crosses. 

But  git  RELIGION  well  in  ban', 
An'  ride  her  like  a  little  man— 
Dere  ain't  no  boss  in  all  de  Ian' 

Kin  run  agin  her — 
An'  you  '11  come  by  de  jedges'  stan' 

A'  easy  winner. 


93 


REV.  HENRY'S  WAR-SONG 

WHO  JS  gwine  to  fight  in  de  battle,  in  de 
battle? 
Who 's  gwine  to  march  wid  de  army  ob  de 

King? 

Listen  at  de  drums,  how  dey  rattle,  rattle,  rattle: 
Hark  to  de  bullets,  how  dey  sing! 
Close  up,  saints,  in  de  center ! 

Fall  in,  sinnahs,  on  de  flanks ! 
'Tention !  right  dress !  eyes  front !  steady ! — 
All  stand  quiet  in  de  ranks. 

Dat  's  right,  men  keep  a-standin',  keep  a-standin' — 

Not  a  bit  o'  danger  ob  an  inimy  behin' : 
De  ahmy  's  at  de  front,  an'  ouah  Gineral  Com- 

mandin' 
Has  got  out  a  pow'ful  pickit-line ! 

Wait  for  yo'  orders  till  dey  come,  den ; 
94 


REV.  HENRY'S  WAR-SONG 

Keep  up  patience;  rendah  thanks 
Dat  you  has  nuffin  fur  to  do — onless  it 's 

suffin 
To  stan'  up  waitin'  in  de  ranks. 

'T  won't   be    so    long    'fore   de    orders,    'fore    de 

orders — 

Soon  we  '11  be  gittin'   'em — de  orders  to  ad 
vance  ; 

Den,  ebry  man  in  de  column  to  his  duty; 
Show  what 's  de  value  ob  de  chance ! 
Fight!  an'  we  '11  oberturn  de  debbil ! 

Fight !  an'  we  '11  hab  de  country's  thanks ! 
An'    all  '11   git   a  pension   an'   a'   honorable 

mention, 
What  stood  up  steady  in  de  ranks! 


LARRY  'S  ON  THE  FORCE 

. 

WELL,   Katie,   and  this  is  yersilf4?     And 
where  was  you  this  whoile? 
And  ain't  ye  dhrissed!     You  are  the  wan  to  illus- 

thrate  the  stoile; 
But    niver    moind  thim    matthers    now,    there's 


toime  enough  for  thim; 

And  Larry  —  that  's  me  b'y  —  I  want  to  sphake  to 
you  av  him. 

Sure,  Larry  bates  thim  all  for  luck!  —  't  is  he  will 

make  his  way, 
And  be  the  proide  and  honnur  to  the  sod  beyant 


. 

the  say. 
We'll  soon  be   able— whisht!     I  do  be  singin' 

till  I  'm  hoorse, 
For  iver  since  a  month  or  more,  me  Larry  's  on 

the  foorce! 

06 


'And    ain't   ve    dhrissed!' 


LARRY  'S  ON  THE  FORCE 


There  's  not  a  proivate  gintlemen  that  boords  in 

I 


all  the  row 

Who  houlds  himself  loike  Larry  does,  or  makes 
as  foine  a  show: 

Thim  eyes  av  his,  the  way  they  shoine — his  coat, 

•'•  ^ 
and  butthons  too — 

He  bates  them  kerrige  dhroivers  that  be  on  the 
avenue ! 


He  shtips  that  proud  and  shtately-loike,  you  'd 

think  he  owned  the  town, 
And  houlds  his  shtick  convanient  to  be  tappin' 

some  wan  down. 
Aich  blissed  day  I  watch  to  see  him  comin'  up 

the  shtrate, 
For,  by  the  greatest  bit  av  luck,  our  house  is  on 

his  bate. 


The   little   b'ys   is   feared   av  him,    for  Larry's 
moighty  shtrict, 

98 


LARRY  'S  ON  THE  FORCE 

And  many  's  the  litthle  blagyard  he  5s  arristed,  I 

expict; 
The  beggyars  gits  acrass  the  shtrate — you  ought 

to  see  thim  fly ! — 
And  organ-groinders  scatthers  whin  they  see  him 

comin'  by. 


I  know  that  Larry's  bound  to  roise;  he'll  get  a 

sergeant's  post 
And   afther  that  a  captincy   widhin   a  year  at 

most; 
And  av  he  goes  in  politics  he  has  the  head  to 

throive — 
I  '11  be  an  Aldherwoman,  Kate,  afore  I  'm  thirty- 

f  oive ! 

What's    that    again?     Y 'are    jokin',    surely — 

Katie! — is  it  thrue? 
Last  noight,  you  say,  he — married?  and  Aileen 

O' Donahue? 

99 


'He  houlds  his  shtick  convanient  to  be  tappin'  some 


\van  down' 


LARRY  'S  ON  THE  FORCE 

O  Larry!  c'u'd  ye  have  the  hairt — but  let  the 

spalpeen  be: 

Av  he  demanes  himsilf  to  her,  he  's  nothing  more 
to  me. 

The  ugly  shcamp!     I  always  said,  just  as  I'm 

tellin'  you, 
That  Larry  was  the  biggest  fool  av  all   I   iver 

knew; 
And  many  a  toime  I  've  tould  mesilf — you  see  it 

now,  av  coorse — 
He  'd  niver  come  to  anny  good  av  he  got  on  the 

f  oorce ! 


101 


THE  IRISH  ECLIPSE 

IN  Watherford,  wanst,  lived  Profissorr  Mac- 
Shane, 

The  foinest  asthronomer  iver  was  sane; 
For  long  before  noight,  wid  the  scoience  he  knew, 
Wheriver  wan  shtar  was,  sure  he  could  see  two 

Quoite  plain, 
Could  Profissorr  MacShane. 

More  power  to  him!  ivry  claare  noight  as  would 

pass, 
He'd  sit  by  the  windy,  a-shoving  his  glass; 


A  poke  at  the  dipper,  that  plaised  him  the  laist, 
But  a  punch  in  the  milky  way  suited  his  taste, — 

Small  blame 

To  his  sowl  for  that  same ! 
102 


THE  IRISH  ECLIPSE 

Now,  wan  toime  in  Watherford,  not  long  ago, 
They  had  what  the  loike  was  not  haard  of,  I  know, 
Since  Erin  was  imdher  ould  Brian  Borrhoime : 
The  sun  was  ayclipsed  for  three  days  at  wan 
toime ! 

It 's  thrue 
As  I  tell  it  to  you. 

JT  was  sunroise  long  gone,  yet  the  sun  never  rose, 
And  ivry  one  axed,   "What 's  the  matther,  God 

knows?" 

The  next  day,  and  next,  was  the  very  same  way; 
The  noight  was  so  long  it  was  lasting  all  day, 

As  black 
As  the  coat  on  yer  back. 

The  paiple  wint  hunting  Profissorr  MacShane, 
To  thry  if  he  'd  know  what  this  wondher  could 

mane. 
He  answered  thim  back:   "Is   that  so?  Are  ye 

there? 

103 


THE  IRISH  ECLIPSE 

'T  is  a  lot  of  most  iligant  gommachs  ye  air, 

To  ax 
For  the  plainest  of  facts! 

"Ye  're  part  of  an  impoire,  yez  must  n't  forget, 
Upon  which  the  sun  's  niver  able  to  set; 
Thin  why  will  it  give  yer  impoire  a  surproise 
If  wanst,  for  a  change,  he  refuses  to  roise?' 

Siz  he, 
"That  is  aizv  to  see!" 


104 


A  PRACTICAL  YOUNG  WOMAN 


Y 


OUNG     Julius     Jones     loved     Susan 


Slade; 

• 

And  oft,  in  dulcet  tones, 


He  vainly  had  besought  the  maid 
To  take  the  name  of  Jones. 


"Wert  thou  but  solid,  then,  be  sure, 
T  would  be  all  right,"  said  she, 

"But  Mr.  J.,  whilst  thou  art  poor 
Pray  think  no  more  of  me." 


Poor  Jones  was  sad;  his  coat  was  bad; 

His  salary  was  worse; 
But  hope  suggested:  "Jones,  my  lad, 

Just  try  the  power  of  verse." 
IOC 


A  PRACTICAL  YOUNG  WOMAN 

He  sat  him  down  and  wrote  in  rhyme 
How  she  was  in  her  spring, 


He  sat  him   down   and   wrote   in   rhyme 

And  he  in  summer's  golden  prime — 
And  all  that  sort  of  thing. 


The  poem  praised  her  hair  and  eyes, 
Her  lips,  with  honey  laden. 

He  wound  it  up — up  in  the  skies — 
And  mailed  it  to  the  maiden. 
106 


A  PRACTICAL  YOUNG  WOMAN 

She  read  it  over,  kept  it  clean, 

Put  on  her  finest  raiment, 
And  took  it  to  a  magazine 

And  got  ten  dollars  payment. 


107 


THE  POLYPHONE 

PROFESSOR  Jones  was  very  wise, 
And  wore  green  goggles  on  his  eyes, — 
Or,  't  would  be  better,  I  suppose, 
To  say  he  wore  'em  on  his  nose, — 
And  was  so  very  tall  and  slim 
The  street-boys  made  a  jest  of  him, 
And  to  his  garments  would  attach 
The  label:  "Here '-s  a  walking  match." 
Yet  this  ungainly  friend  of  ours 
Made  daily  gain  in  mental  powers. 
To  him,  each  coming  moment  brought 
Some  thing  of  moment — fact  or  thought — 
And  he  could  bid  the  boys  defiance 
When  rambling  in  the  paths  of  science. 


For  many  weeks  Professor  Jones 
Made  study  of  the  law  of  tones. 
108 


THE  POLYPHONE 

Of  phonographs  and  telephones 
And  megaphones  he  had  a  store 
That  filled  up  half  his  study  floor. 


Professor  Jones 

The  number  of  his  tools,  indeed, 
Would  make  a  work  too  long  to  read 
With  any  sort  of  satisfaction; 
109 


THE  POLYPHONE 

But  magnets  were  the  chief  attraction. 
With  these  he  labored,  much  intent 
On  making  a  new  instrument 
Which  should,  by  means  of  sound-vibrations, 
Make  both  "transmissions"  and  translations. 
Said  he:  "For  speech,  we  must  have  tone, 
And  every  language  has  its  own, — 
Our  high-toned  English  such-and-such, 
And  so-and-so  the  lowest  Dutch, — 
Its  given  rules  to  guide  inflection 
In  some  particular  direction. 
There  's  philologic  evidence 
That  our  languages  commence 
In  some  lost  parent  tongue, — each  root 
Each  nation  modifies  to  suit, — 
And  languages,  't  is  clearly  found, 
In  no  way  differ  but  in  sound. 
Now,  diaphragms  may  well  be  trusted, 
If  once  they  're  properly  adjusted 
For  language  A  and  language  B, 
!'     According  to  the  phonic  key 

1     J-  110 


THE  POLYPHONE 

(And  then  connected  in  a  circuit 

By  persons  competent  to  work  it), 

To  transpose  these  root-derivations 

Which  differ  with  the  tones  of  nations. 

So  if  one  'sends'  an  English  sermon 

'T  will  sound  a  sound  discourse  in  German, 

And  our  Italian  learned  at  home 

Can  be  well  understood  at  Rome." 


So  saying,  the  Professor  toiled, 
And  hammered,  polished,  filed,  and  oiled, 
Until,  adjusted  and  connected, 
Behold  the  polyphones  perfected! 
One  stood  upon  the  study  table, 
And  one  was  downstairs  in  the  stable, 
Where  curious  neighbors  might  not  spy  it, 
And  naught  remained  to  do  but  try  it. 
A  boy  placed  at  the  sending-station, 
III 


m 

THE  POLYPHONE 

To  speak  (for  a  consideration) 

. 

The  noble  language  of  our  nation, 

Professor  Jones  hied  up  the  stair 

To  listen  to  the  sounds  up  there, 

Which  would  at  once,  no  doubt,  determine 

If  English  could  be  changed  to  German. 


That  boy  below,  sad  to  relate, 

Was  not  in  a  regenerate  state: 

8 
His  language  did  not  smack  of  schools, 

Or  go  by  proper  laws  and  rules. 
His  speech  was  very  shrill,  but  oh ! 
Its  tone  was  most  exceeding  low ! 
So  then  and  there  the  stable  rang 
With  slang,  and  nothing  else  but  slang, 
Which,  having  no  equivalent 
In  German,  clogged  the  instrument, 
And  while  the  disappointed  Jones 
Stood  quaking  at  the  horrid  tones 
That  came  from  the  receiving  plate, 
1  112 


THE  POLYPHONE 

Discordant,    inarticulate, 
The  boy  began  the  last  new  song — 
There  was  a  clang,  as  from  a  gong, 
And  shattered  were  the  polyphones, 
And  eke  the  intellect  of  Jones! 


L\ 
» 

i 
i 


THE  FIRST  CLIENT 

A     LEGAL    DITTY    TO    BE    SUNG    WITHOUT    CHORUS 


JOHN  SMITH,  a  young  attorney,  just  ad 
mitted  to  the  bar, 
Was  solemn  and  sagacious — as  young  attorneys 

are; 
And  a  frown  of  deep  abstraction  held  the  seizin 

of  his  face— 

The  result  of  contemplation  of  the  rule  in  Shel 
ley's  Case. 


One  day  in  term-time  Mr.  Smith  was  sitting  in 

the  Court, 
When  some  good  men  and  true  of  the  body  of  the 

county  did  on  their  oath  report, 
114 


THE  FIRST  CLIENT 

That  heretofore,  to  wit:  upon  the  second  day  of 


May, 


A.  D.  1877,  about  the  hour  of  noon  in  the  county 
and  state  aforesaid,  one  Joseph  Scroggs,  late 
of  said  county,  did  then  and  there  feloni 
ously  take,  steal,  and  carry  away 

One  bay  horse,  of  the  value  of  fifty  dollars,  more 

or  less 
(The  same  then  and  there  being  of  the  property, 

goods,  and  chattels  of  one  Hezekiah  Hess), 
Contrary  to  the  statute  in  such  case  expressly 

made 
And  provided,  and  against  the  peace  and  dignity 

of  the  state  wherein  the  venue  had  been  laid. 

• 

The  prisoner,  Joseph  Scroggs,  was  then  arraigned 
upon  this  charge, 

And  plead  not  guilty,  and  of  this  he  threw  him 
self  upon  the  country  at  large; 


THE  FIRST  CLIENT 

And  said  Joseph  being  poor,  the  Court  did  gra 
ciously  appoint 

Mr.  Smith  to  defend  him — much  on  the  same 
principle  that  obtains  in  every  charity  hos 
pital,  where  a  young  medical  student  is  often 
set  to  rectify  a  serious  injury  to  an  organ  or 
a  joint. 

The  witnesses  seemed  prejudiced  against  poor  Mr. 

. 
Scroggs ; 

And  the  district  attorney  made  a  thrilling  speech 
in  which  he  told  the  jury  if  they  did  n't  find 
for  the  state  he  reckoned  he  'd  have  to  "walk 
their  logs." 

Then  Mr.  Smith  arose  and  made  his  speech  for  the 
defense, 

Wherein  he  quoted  Shakspere,  Blackstone,  Chitty, 
Archbold,  Joaquin  Miller,  Story,  Kent,  Tup- 

per,  Smedes,  and  Marshall,  and  many  other 

. 

writers,    and   everybody    said    they    "never 
heerd  sich  a  bust  of  eloquence." 


116 


THE  FIRST  CLIENT 

And  he  said:     "On   this  hypothesis,   my   client 

must  go  free;" 
And :     "Again,  on  this  hypothesis,  it 's  morally 

impossible  that  he  could  be  guilty,  don't  you 

see?"  I 

And:     "Then,    on    this    hypothesis,    you    really 


act;"— 


And  so  on,  with  forty-six  more  hypotheses,  upon 
none  of  which,  Mr.  Smith  ably  demonstrated, 
could  Scroggs  be  derelict. 


But  the  jury,  never  stirring  from  the  box  wherein 
they  sat, 

Returned  a  verdict  of  "guilty" ;  and  his  honor 
straightway  sentenced  Scroggs  to  a  three- 
year  term  in  the  penitentiary,  and  a  heavy 
fine,  and  the  costs  on  top  of  that ; 

And  the  prisoner,1*  in  wild  delight,  got  up  and 
danced  and  sung; 


117 


THE  FIRST  CLIENT 

And  when  they  asked  him  the  reason  of  this 
strange  behavior,  he  said :  "It 's  because  I 
got  off  so  easy — for  if  there  'd  ha'  been  a 
few  more  of  them  darned  hypothesises,  I 
should  certainly  have  been  hung!" 


118 


S 


THE  KNIGHT  AND  THE  SQUIRE 

IR  MORTIMER  EUSTACE  FITZ  CLAR 
ENCE  DU  BROWN 

Sat  drinking  his  ruby  wine; 
And  he  called:     "What  ho!     Here — somebody 

go 
And  summon  that  squire  of  mine, 

Young  Patrick  de  Wachtamrhein." 


They  passed  the  word  for  young  Patrick,  who 

came 

And  entered  the  castle  hall. 
"Good  master,"  said  he,  "and  what  now  might  it 

be 

You  'd  have  me  be  doing,  at  all? 
I  '11  do  it,  whatever  befall." 
119 


THE  KNIGHT  AND  THE  SQUIRE 

"Now  hie  thee  up  to  the  palace,  good  squire, 
And  get  thee  speech  with  the  King; 

For  fain  would  I  know  if  this  news  be  so 
The  palmers  and  peddlers  bring — 
Of  a  new  crusade  this  spring." 

Young  Patrick  rode  forth  and  young  Patrick  rode 
back; 

Sir  Mortimer  gave  him  go'd-den; 
"Sir,  war  is  declared,  and  a  draft  prepared, 

For  his  Majesty  must  have  men : 

And  gold  has  gone  up  to  ten," 

Then  good  Sir  Mortimer  straightway  went 

To  his  merchant-tailor  man, 
And  bought  for  a  groat  a  new  tin  coat, 

Which,  cut  on  the  latest  plan, 

Looked  stylish  as  any  tin  can. 

. 

"I  sell  you  dot  pair  brass  pants  so  sheap — 
No?     Mebbe  you  comes  again? 
120 


THE  KNIGHT  AND  THE  SQUIRE 

Puy  a  rubber  shtamp  for  to  use  in  camp 
For  to  marg  your  clodings  plain*?" 
But  the  merchant  talked  in  vain. 


"Come  hither,  now,  Patrick  de  Wachtamrhein, 
Said  the  knight;  "thou  art  bold  and  stanch; 

No  wight  in  the  castle  with  thee  can  wrestle  : 
I  leave  thee  in  charge  of  the  ranch  — 

Take  care  of  my  lady  Blanche." 

'm 

//r  ' 

Sir  Mortimer  rode  with  his  banner  displayed, 


cod-fish  saltier-wise,  — 
But  he  did  not  go  to  crusade  —  oh,  no  ! 
But  in  search  of  army  supplies, 
Expecting  the  market  to  rise. 

/M 

Said  he:     "In  the  army  I  will  not  go, 

And  they  cannot  impress  me  ; 
T  were  a  vain  attempt,  for  I  am  exempt, 
As  my  age  is  fifty-three. 

§A  contractor  I  will  be." 
121 


Sir   Mortimer   rode  with  his  banner   displayed 


THE  KNIGHT  AND  THE  SQUIRE 

So  he  rode  abroad,  and  he  found,  with  joy, 
That  his  neighbors'  sheep  looked  well, 

And  their  oxen  stout  went  straying  about 
So  fat  that  they  nearly  fell; 
And  he  drove  them  off  to  sell. 


Young    Patrick    de    Wachtamrhein   heard    these 
things, 

And  his  eyes  with  tears  grew  dim ; 
"This  castle  should  not,"  he  observed,  "God  wot, 

Belong  to  a  chap  like  him, 

For  his  moral  sense  is  slim." 


So  he  seized  Sir  Mortimer's  wealth  and  wife 

(Divorced  by  a  chancery  suit)  ; 
Of  the  house  he  was  head  in  Sir  Mortimer's  stead, 

And  he  sent  off  the  latter,  to  boot, 

To  crusade  as  his  substitute. 

123 


THE  KNIGHT  AND  THE  SQUIRE 

And,  knights,  moral  ye  all  may  learn 
From  the  tale  that  is  here  rehearsed : 

Before  you  start  for  a  foreign  part 
'T  is  best  to  provide  for  the  worst, 
And  mortgage  your  property  first. 


124 


NINE  GRAVES  IN  EDINBRO 


T  N  the  church-yard,  up  in  the  old  high  town, 
J_  The  sexton  stood  at  his  daily  toil, 
And  he  lifted  his  mattock,  and  drove  it  down, 
And  sunk  it  deep  in  the  sacred  soil. 


"Just  three  for  women,  and  three  for  men, 
And,  to  fill  the  number,  another  three 


And  then  as  he  delved  he  sang  right  lustily, 
Aye  as  he  deepened  and  shaped  the  graves 

In  the  black  old  mold  that  smelled  so  mustily, 
And  thus  was  the  way  of  the  sexton's  staves : 

"It 's  nine  o'  the  clock,  and  I  have  begun 
The  settled  task  that  is  daily  mine ; 

By  ten  o'  the  clock  I  will  finish  one, 
By  six  o'  the  clock  there  must  be  nine : 


125 


NINE  GRAVES  IN  EDINBRO 

For  daughters  of  women  and  sons  of  men 
Who  men  or  women  shall  never  be. 


"And  the  first  of  the  graves  in  a  row  of  three 
Is  his  or  hers  who  shall  first  appear ; 

All  lie  in  the  order  they  come  to  me, 

And  such  has  been  ever  the  custom  here." 

The  first  they  brought  was  a  fair  young  child, 
And  they  saw  him  buried  and  went  their  way 

And  the  sexton  leaned  on  his  spade  and  smiled, 
And  wondered,  "How  many  more  to-day4?" 


The  next  was  a  man ;  then  a  woman  came : 
The  sexton  had  loved  her  in  years  gone  by; 

But  the  yean  had  gone,  and  the  dead  old  dame 
He  buried  as  dee^  in  his  memory. 

• 

At  six  o'  the  clock  his  task  was  done ; 

Eight  graves  were  closed,  and  the  ninth  pre 
pared 


126 


NINE  GRAVES  IN  EDINBRO 

Made  ready  to  welcome  a  man — what  one 
'T  was  little  the  grim  old  sexton  cared. 


The  sexton 


He  sat  him  down  on  its  brink  to  rest, 

When  the  clouds  were  red  and  the  sky  was 


And  said  to  himself:  "This  last  is  the  best 
And  deepest  of  all  I  have  digged  to-day. 
127 


NINE  GRAVES  IN  EDINBRO 

"Who  will  fill  it,  I  wonder,  and  when4? 

It  does  not  matter:  who 3er  they  be, 
The  best  and  the  worst  of  the  race  of  men 

Are  all  alike  when  they  come  to  me." 


They  went  to  him  with  a  man,  next  day, 

When  the  sky  was  gray  and  the  clouds  were  red, 

As  the  sun  set  forth  on  his  upward  way; 

They  went — and  they  found  the  sexton  dead. 


Dead,  by  the  open  grave,  was  he ; 

And  they  buried  him  in  it  that  self-same  day, 
And  marveled  much  such  a  thing  should  be ; 

And  since,  the  people  will  often  say: 


//  ye  dig,  no  matter  when, 
Graves  to  bury  other  men, 
Think — it  never  can  be  known 
When  ye  '//  chance  to  dig  your  own. 
128 


NINE  GRAVES  IN  EDINBRO 

Mind  ye  of  the  tale  ye  know — 

Nine  graves  in  Edinbro. 
]jj\ 

NOTE. — The  following  is  related  concerning  the  death  of 
Jemmy  Camber,  one  of  the  jesters  of  King  James  I. 

"Jemmy  rose,  made  him  ready,  takes  his  horse,  and  rides  to 
the  church-yard  in  the  high  towne,  where  he  found  the  sexton 
(as  the  custom  is  there)  making  nine  graves — three  for  men, 
three  for  women,  and  three  for  children;  and  whoso  dyes  next, 
first  come,  first  served.  '  Lend  me  thy  spade,'  says  Jemmy,  and 
with  that  digs  a  hole,  which  hole  hee  bids  him  make  for  his 
grave;  and  doth  give  him  a  French  crowne.  The  man,  willing 
to  please  him  (more  for  his  gold  than  his  pleasure),  did  so;  and 
the  foole  gets  upon  his  horse,  rides  to  a  gentleman  of  the  towne, 
and  on  the  sodaine  within  two  houres  after  dyed;  of  whom  the 
sexton  telling,  he  was  buried  there  indeed." — ROBERT  ARNIM, 
"The  Nest  of  Ninnies."  (A.  D.  1608.) 


12Q 


HOPE 


NO  matter  where  we  sail, 
A  storm  may  come  to  wreck  us, 
A  bitter  wind,  to  check  us 

In  the  quest  for  unknown  lands, 
And  cast  us  on  the  sands, 
No  matter  where  we  sail : 


Then,  when  my  ship  goes  down, 
What  choice  is  left  to  me 
From  leaping  in  the  sea — 
And  willingly  forsake 
All  that  the  sea  can  take, 
Then,  when  my  ship  goes  down? 

Still,  in  spite  of  storm, 
From  all  we  feel  or  fear 
130 


HOPE 

A  rescue  may  be  near : 

Though  tempests  blow  their  best, 
A  manly  heart  can  rest 
Still,  in  spite  of  storm! 


D 


STUDIES  IN  STYLE 

BURNS. — An  Epistle  to  John  Howard. 

EAR  SIR :  I  never  saw  your  face 
But  yet,  for  some  few  moments'  space, 
To  tak'  a  friend's  familiar  place 

Is  my  design: 

The  friend  o'  a'  the  human  race 
Is  surely  mine. 

1 

Here  is  my  han',  sir;  will  ye  tak'  it? 
An  honest  man  may  safely  shake  it, 
For,  'spite  o'  Fate,  nae  powers  shall  mak'  it 

Be  stained  wi'   crime — 
May  a'  its  little  force  forsake  it 

Afore  that  time ! 

'T  is  little  that  I  hae  to  offer— 
My  humble  muse  expects  you  '11  scoff  her, 
132 


STUDIES  IN  STYLE 

And  scarce  she  daurs  to  mak'  the  proffer, 

It  is  sae  sma' : 
My  best  guid-will :  pray  tak'  it  of  her, 

For  that 's  my  a'. 

I  hae  nae  flatt'rin'  words  to  gie  you; 

I  only  say,  sir,  God  be  wi'  you ! 

And  whan  from  life  He  wills  to  free  you, 


May  you  repair 


To  His  ain  house— I  hope  to  see  you 
Whan  I  am  there ! 

• 

This  warld,  I  hope  you  may  improve  it, 
But  yet  I  doubt  the  de'il  could  move  it 
Except  in  tracks  already  grovit — 

Howe'er,  if  sae, 
There  is  nae  harm  to  try  to  shove  it 

Anither  way. 

The  warld,  they  say,  is  gettin'  auld; 
Yet  in  her  bosom,  I  've  been  tauld, 
133 


STUDIES  IN  STYLE 

A  burnin',  youthfu'  heart 's  installed— 

I  dinna  ken, — 
But  sure  her  face  seems  freezin'  cauld 

To  some  puir  men. 

In  summer  though  the  sun  may  shine, 
Aye  still  the  winter's  cauld  is  mine- 
But  what  o'  'that?     The  manly  pine 

Endures  the  storm ! 
Ae  spark  o'  Poesy  divine 

Will  keep  me  warm. 


134 


STUDIES  IN  STYLE 


But  I  am  takin'  up  your  time — 

Worth  sae  much  mair  than  my  puir  rhyme 

That  ye  will  hear  sic  verses  chime 

And  no  cry  "hark!"— 
Sae,  wussin  ye  success  sublime, 

I  mak'  my  mark. 


HERRICK. — A  Preachment. 

OMAN  !  if  hard  thy"  fortune, 
However  fate  importune, 
Turn  not  to  wrong — none  find,  or  will, 
Their  good  enlarged  by  doing  ill. 

As  boats  that  row  in  Venice 

Just  so  the  life  of  men  is: 
Our  course  goes  crooked  o'er  the  tide, 
With  but  a  broken  oar  to  guide. 
135 

1 e^\Qo>^>X^^=^>i>^>aM^ 


STUDIES  IN  STYLE 

Thy  heart  of  oak  then  cherish, 
Or  sure  thy  soul  will  perish — 
The  soul  is  but  a  boat  that  goes 
Whatever  way  the  heart  hath  chose. 


136 


ALONG  THE  LINE 

WHAT  say?     A  song  or  a  story?     Draw 
up  a  box  'r  a  chair, 
All  them  that  is  wantin'  to  listen; — but  boys,  I  'm 

a-tellin'  you  fair. 
See  this?     It'll  go  for  the  feller  what  takes  a 

notion  to  laugh, 

And  him  or  me  will  be  t'  our  folks  a  man  or  a 
foretograph ! 

You  did  n't  know  Jim — of  course  not — I  'm  tellin' 

you  now  of  him : 

' 

A  fearful  chap  on  his  muscle,  a  wild  old  boy,  was 

Jim; 
But,   boys,   now  don't  you  forgit  it,  he  was  as 

good  and  square 
As  any  man  that  the  country  held — and  plenty 

o'  men  was  there. 

13? 


sss§ss§ss§§§§ 


ALONG  THE  LINE 

Jim  was  a  lightnin'-jerker — of  course  you  know  't 

I  mean : 
He  sot  at  his  little  table  and  rattled  the  Morse 

machine. 
And  did  n't  it  rattle !     I  bet  you !     He  'd  studied 

it  down  so  fine, 
There  wasn't  a  one  that  could  "send"  with  him, 


not  all  along  the  line. 


One  time  Jim  sat   in  the  office,   a-smokin'   and 

gazin'  out, 
When  in  come  a  feller  was  lookin'  skeered — and 

miff  to  be  skeered  about ! 

. 

He  told  his  news  in  a  minute,  and,  man  as  he 
was,  got  cry'n'; 

And  "Taller  fever  is  broken  out!"  went  clickin' 
along  the  line. 


I  think  that  line  was  connected  with  every  soul 
in  the  land, 

138 


ALONG  THE  LINE 

From  what  was  sent  t'  us  Howards — I  'm  one, 

d  'ye  understand? 
Of  all  the  parts  o'  the  Union,  no  tell'n'  which 

helped  us  most; 
And  we  was  a-workin',  we  was,  sir!     And  Jim 

he  kep'  to  his  post. 


The  air  got  full  o'  the  fever;  grass  growed  up  in 

the  street ; 
Travel  the  town  all  over,  and  never  a  man  you  'd 

meet, 

139 


All  day  long  he  was  settin'  pushin'  away  at  the 

key, 
Or  takin'  off  from  the  sounder,  just  as  the  case 

might  be; 
And  most  of  the  night  a-nursin'.     And  what  was 

bracin5  his  heart 
Was  knowin'  his  only  sister  'n'  him  was  seventy 

miles  apart. 


I 


'There  come  a  break,  and  his  office  call" 


ALONG  THE  LINE 

'Cept,  maybe,  some  feller  a-runnin',  who'd  say, 

as  he  passed  you  by : 
"I  'm  tryin'  to  find  the  doctor,"  or  "Billy  is  bound 

to  die." 

When  folks  went  under — they  might  be  the  very 

best  in  the  land — 
We  thro  wed  'em  into  a  white-pine  box,  and  drayed 

'em  out  off-hand, 
To  wait  their  turn  to  be  planted,  without  a  word 

or  a  prayer; 
There  wa'  n't  no  chance  and  there  wa'  n't  no  time 

for  prayin'  or  preachin'  there. 


Well,  Jim,  he  minded  his  duty,  and  stuck  to  the 

work — oh,  yes — 
But,  boys,  one  Saturday  night,  when  he  was  busy 

sendin'  the  press, 
There  come  a  break,  and  his  office  call,  and  soon 

as  he  'd  time  to  sign, 
141 


ALONG  THE  LINE 

"Your  sister's   took  the  fever  and  died"   come 
flashin'  along  the  line. 

Throw  up  the  winder  and  let  in  air !     How  can  I 

breathe  or  speak 
With — Jim?     Oh,  certainly;  news  like  that  was 

bound  for  to  make  him  weak; 
But  Jim  sot  straight  at  the  table — he  wa'  n't  the 

man  to  shirk! 
And,  calmer  and  cooler  than  I  am  now,  he  finished 

the  company's  work. 

But  then  he  dropped;  and  in  four  days  more  all 

that  was  left  of  him 
Was   the  wasted  body  that  once  had  held  the 

noblest  soul — poor  Jim ! 

0  boys!  that  brother  and  sister  was  brother  and 

sister  o'  mine! 

1  wonder  if  ever  we  '11  meet  ag'in,  somewheres 

along  the  line. 


142 
IS&SMMM^^ 


1 


HER  CONQUEST 

MUSTER  thy  wit,  and  talk  of  whatsoever 
Light,      mirth-provoking     matter      thou 

canst  find : 

I  laugh,  and  own  that  thou,  with  small  endeavor, 
Hast  won  my  mind. 

Be  silent  if  thou  wilt;  thine  eyes  expressing 

Thy   thoughts   and   feelings,    lift   them   up   to 
mine: 

Then  quickly  thou  shalt  hear  me,  love,  confessing 
My  heart  is  thine. 


And  let  that  brilliant  glance  become  but  tender — 
Return  me  heart  for  heart — then  take  the  whole 

Of  all  that  yet  is  left  me  to  surrender: 
Thou  hast  my  soul. 

H3 


HER  CONQUEST 

Now,  when  the  three  are  fast  in  thy  possession, 
And  thou  hast  paid  me  back  their  worth,  and 
more, 

I  '11  tell  thee — all  whereof  I  've  made  thee  cession 
Was  thine  before. 


I 


144 


N 


NELLY 

OT  long  ago — perhaps — not  long — 
My  soul  heard  no  discordant  tone, 


For  love  and  youth's  sweet  matin  song 

- 
It  hearkened  to,  and  that  alone; 


But  now  the  song  is  hushed, — it  hears 
Strange  music,  in  a  harsher  key. 

For  every  sound  a  dirge  appears 
Since  Nelly  died,  who  lived  for  me. 


The  summer  of  my  life  is  past; 

Eternal  winter  reigns  instead; 
For  how,  for  me,  could  summer  last, 

When  she,  my  only  rose,  is  dead4? 


Sweet  Nelly !  would  thou  couldst  be  yet, 
As  once,  my  day,  my  only  light! 
H5 


sssssssssss 


NELLY 

But  thou  art  gone — the  sun  has  set — 
• 

And  every  day,  to  me,  is  night. 


Yet,  be  the  darkness  e'er  so  deep, 
Let  no  more  suns  arise  for  me: 

For  night  can  soothe  my  heart  to  sleep, 
And,  Nelly,  then  I  '11  dream  of  thee ! 


146 


W 


COSMOS 

HAT  to  me  are  all  your  treasures? 
Have  I  need  of  purchased  pleas- 

u  res, 

Croesus,  such  as  thine4? 
Come,  I  '11  have  thee  make  confession 
Thou  hast  naught  in  thy  possession, 
And  the  world  is  mine. 

I  have  all  that  thou  hadst  never; 
Though  I  'm  old,  I  'm  young  forever, 

And  happy  I,  at  ease; 
All  I  wish  I  can  create  it; 
Wing  my  soul,  and  elevate  it 

Where  and  when  I  please. 

Of  my  secret  make  but  trial : 
Seest  thou  this  little  vial4? 

H7 


COSMOS 

Dost  thou  not,  then,  think 
Magic  power  to  it  pertaining, 
All  the  world  itself  containing, 

Though  it  holds  but — ink? 


1 


148 


AN  EXCHANGE 


D 


EATH  seizeth  not  the  soul; 

When  life  is  past  control — 
No  power  left  to  hold  it, 
When  we  have  lost  or  sold  it — 
Why  care  we  for  the  loss  of  lives 

Of  suffering  and  sinning, 
Well  knowing  that,  for  what  survives, 
A  life  is  just  beginning*? 

So,  when  our  day  arrives, 
Why  cling  we  to  our  lives'? 

Though  they  be  clean  and  fair, 
Or  stained  with  sin  and  care, 
The  bargain  cannot  be  adverse; 

An  old  life  for  a  new  one; 
Death  cannot  make  a  false  soul  worse, 
Or  ever  change  a  true  one. 

i 


THE  CEMETERY 

I    STAND  within  this  solemn  place 
And  think  of  days  gone  by; 
I  think  of  many  an  old-time  face; 
Here  's  where  those  faces  lie. 

I  think  of  when,  what  time  God  please, 
The  hour  shall  come  to  me, 

That,  covered  by  the  clay,  like  these, 
My  face  shall  masked  be. 

No  marble  monument  will  rise 

Above  that  grave  of  mine ; 
No  loving  friends  will  wipe  their  eyes 

When  life  I  shall  resign. 

But  when  I  leave  my  life — have  left 
150 


THE  CEMETERY 

My  every  present  care — 
I  '11  find  a  home  of  care  bereft; 
My  friends  are  living  there ! 


GOING 

DRAW   de   curtain   wider — wider — let   me 
see  de  sun; 

I  '11  be  trab'lin'  higher  'n  it  is,  'fore  de  day  is  done. 
Prop  a  cheer  ag'in  de  door,  an'  le  me  heah  de 

breeze, 

Soundin'  like  a  runnin'  ribber,  'mong  de  china- 
trees. 

Sing  de  "Rock  of  Ages,"  Phillis —  sing  it  soft  an' 

low; 

Dat 's  de  tune  I  wants  to  heah  ag'in  afore  I  go. 
Don't  you  choke   an'   sob,   ol'   'ooman — sing  it 

brave  an'  bol': 
Ah,  dat  music ! — seems  to  me  it 's  singin'  in  my 

soul! 

Listen! — don't  you  hear  de  dog*?     I  knows  what 
makes  him  howl. 

152 


I 


GOING 
Las'  night,  up  on  top  de  house,  dere  sot  a  whoopin' 

owl; 
Den  dat  whip-poor-will,  you  knows  you'se'f  you 

heerd  it  cry- 
Mi  dem  things  has  knowledge  ob  a  pusson  gwine 

to  die. 

I 's  a-gwine  to  glory,  Phillis,  'way  up  in  de  sky, 
Whar  de  houses  is  ob  goP — an'  you  '11  come  by 
an'  by ! 

I  ain't  gwine  to  settle  down  yit;  dey  will  le'  me 

. 
wait 

Tell  you  comes  to  jine  me  troo  de  nebber-shettin' 
gate. 

Take  me  easy  as  you  kin,  an'  lif'  me  up  in  bed; 
Fotch  an  extry  pillow  heah,  to  put  beneef  my 

head; 
Dar — I 's  ready,  now,  to  hab  de  paf  to  Hebben 

showed— 
Dem  'ar  guidin'  angels  mus'  be  stoppin'  on  de 

road! 
I  153  I 


GOING 

Phillis,  do  you  reckon  dat  a  harp  is  hard  to  play? 
'Spose  I  '11 1'arn  to  pick  it,  ef  I  practise  eb'ry  day? 
Hark! — de  angels  is  a-comin' — heah  'em  fly,  ker- 

swush! 
Dere  mus'  be  a  mons'ous  covey,  comin'  wid  a  rush ! 

Heah  'em  flyin'  down  de  chimbly !     No  dat  ain't 

de  win' — 
You  kain't  heah  'em,  'kase  yoah  ears  is  stoppered 

up  wid  sin. 
Glory!     Glory!     Glory!     I 's  a-gwine — yes,  I 's 

a-gwine ! 
I 's  de  one  dat 's  taken,  you  's  de  oder  lef  behin' ! 


Angels  is   a  stan'in'   'roun'   me,   hoi' in'   out  dey 

han's! 

Now  I  sees  de  ribber  Jordan,  running  in  de  san's. 
Don't  you  see  dat  angel,  p'intin'   at  it  wid  his 

sword  ? 
Hush! — don't  'sturb  me  talkin' — I  's  a  lookin'  fer 

de  ford ! 

154 


DAT  PETER 

" 


I 


'S  been  a-watchin'  people  an'  deir  doings  all 

my  life, 
An'  sometimes  I  obsarves  to  Sophonisby — dat  :s 

my  wife — 

Dat  nuffin'  seldom  happens  what  I  does  n't  'spect 
to  see: 

But  Peter, 
Dat  Peter ! 

He  gits  away  wid  me. 

You  see  he  's  been  to  Oakland,  an'  his  larnin'  is 

profound; 
I  heered  him  sayin'  yes'day  dat  de  yearth  kep' 

turnin'  round! 
Dat  'pears  to  me  ridiculous — but  I  nebber  wuz 

to  school — 

155 


DAT  PETER 

And  Peter, 
Dat  Peter ! 

He  'lows  dat  I 's  a  fool. 

Well,  mebbe  so;  I  mout  be,  but  I  doesn't  think 

it 's  true; 
I  ain't  so  wise  as  Peter,  but  I  knows  a  thing  or 

two: 

Ef  I  kain't  run  as  fast  as  some,  I  manages  to 
crawl- 
But  Peter, 
Dat  Peter ! 

He  thinks  he  knows  it  all. 


He  wears  a  suit  ob  store-clo'es,  an'  a  fine  fibe 

dollar  hat ! 
Who  eber  heered  de  like  afore  ob  sich  gwine  on 

as  dat? 

He  iles  his  har,  he  do;  an'  goes  a-sparkin'  eb'ry 
night; 

Why  Peter, 
156 


DAT  PETER 

Dat  Peter ! 

I  guess  he  thinks  he  's  white. 

I  really  think  ef  Peter  would  rent  a  leetle  patch 

ob  land, 
An'  settle  down  to  crappin',  dat  he  'd  hold  a  better 

hand; 

De  debbil  Js  gwine  to  set  him  back  afore  his  game 
is  done; 

But  Peter, 
Dat  Peter ! 

He  say  he  's  twenty-one. 

Well,  let  de  nigger  slide — I  could  say  suffin'  ef 

I  mout, 

But  I  has  oder  matters  to  be  projeckin'  about. 
I 's  jubious  how   he  '11   come  out — hab  to  wait 
a  while  an'  see. 

But  Peter, 
Dat  Peter ! 

He  's  most  too  much  for  me. 
157 


SUMMER  IDYLLERS 

. 


f   |    1 

JL 


WAS  in  the  heart  of  Dixie's  Land  — 
(Not  where  the  lime  and  orange  grow, 
Not  where  the  palm-tree  waves  —  ah,  no; 

But  where  the  soil  is  reddish  sand, 

. 
And  pines,  as  thick  as  they  can  stand, 

On  every  side  are  seen  : 

That's  the  kind  of  place  I  mean)  — 

Upon  a  certain  afternoon 

. 
In  June, 

Beneath  the  shed  before  the  door 
Of  Thomas  Carey's  cross-roads  store, 
Sat  whittling  there  some  six  or  more. 


The  sun  appeared  a  brazen  shield, 

Or  some  great  pumpkn  in  a  field ; 

All  moving  things  their  course  pursued 


158 


SUMMER  IDYLLERS 

With  languid  Summer  lassitude — 
The  very  breezes  felt  it  so 
They  scarcely  mustered  strength  to  blow. 
Upon  such  days,  it  seems, 
Our  thoughts  did  dwell  on  streams : 
And  by  a  natural  sequence,  then, 
—(I  here  inform  the  would-be  joker 
No  reference  is  meant  to  Poker) — 
Comes  fishing  to  the  minds  of  men. 

William  Smith  observed  that  he 
Had  lately  been,  with  two  or  three, 
A-fishing — and  that  "he  would  be 

Kersmashed  if  he — did — ever  see 

[p 
The  like  of  peearch  and  cat — 

Some  of  'em  'z  'long  as  that:" 

And  "hoped  he  might"  (an  awful  wish,) 

"Onless  they  caught  six  thousand  fish!" 

I 

There  came  a  round  of  deep  applause, 
And  then  there  fell  a  solemn  pause  • 

159 

ig 


SUMMER  IDYLLERS 

For  treats  were  due,  by  cross-road  laws. 

None  could  gainsay  it, 

But — who  was  to  pay  it4? 

No  one  stirred,  no  one  invited. 

Jackson  Flint  became  excited, 

Returning  William  Smith's  defiant  glance, 

Said  he :  "That  'minds  me  of  a  sarcumstance 

I  b'lieve  I  never  told  you  on  afore. 

It  happen — let  me  see — in  'fifty-four. 

I  lived  down  on  Big  Sandy,  then, 

.And,  gentlemen, 

The  fish  they  was  so  awful  thick 

In  that  'ar  crick, 

That  people  heered  'em  breathing  twenty-six  mile 

off. 
—Jack    Harris,    take    some    sugar,    ef    you're 

troubled  with  a  cough.— 
As  I  was  savin', 
Them  fish  a-playin', 

Made  sech  a  noise,  they  had  me  prayin' 

160 


"Some  of  'em  'z  'long  as  that" 


SUMMER  IDYLLERS 

The  whole  night  long.     I  could  n't  get  a  nap 

Not  nohow, 

For  the  row — 

They  jest  kep'  up  one  everlastin'  slap. 

One  big  one  got  to  makin'  sech  a  fuss, 

A-jumpin'  and  a-splashin',  wuss  and  wuss, 

And  kep'  on  that-a-way 

• 

Every  night  and  every  day, 

That  bye-and-bye 

I  thinks,  says  I, 

It 's  time  this  here  was  done  with,  master  cat, 

And  I  am  goin'  to  hev  you  out  of  that. 

And  so  I  sot  a  line  for  him, 

And  tied  it  to  a  swingin'  limb. 

• 
I  caught  him.     Oh  yes. 

How  big?     Well — guess. 
His  size  I  'm  kinder  bashful  for  to  state, 
For  fear  you  '11  think  thet  I  exaggerate. 
I  kain't  say 

What  he  might  weigh — 
I  was  n't  never  thinkin'  'bout  his  weight — 

162 


SUMMER  IDYLLERS 

But,  boys,  I  used  that  fish's  ribs  for  rails, 
And  shingled  four  log  cabins  with  his  scales" 

Then  William  Smith  breathed  forth  a  sigh, 
And  passed  his  sleeve  across  his  eye, 
And  whistled  soft — then  called  aloud: 
"Fetch  out  the  cider  for  the  crowd." 


163 


N 


THE  KINGDOM  GATE 
To  H.  L.  F. 

EBBAH  knocked  on  de  Kingdom  Gate  be- 

foah, 

Yet  dey  comes  for  to  let  me  in— 
Come,  frow  yo'  traps  on  de  gal  Try  floah, 
Ef  dey  does  n't  hold  no  sin ! 
It  ain't  bery  fur  to  de  Kingdom  Gate, 
An'  de  doah,  it 's  right  inside ; 
But  e'zamine  yo'  baggidge — for  dey  '11  make  you 

wait, 
Ef  it 's  sin  what  you  's  try'n  fur  to  hide ! 


You  kain't  smuggle  nuffin'  froo  de  Kingdom  Gate 
What  ain't  got  de  right  to  go; 
You  kin  get  up  arly,  you  kin  get  up  late, 
But  you'll  nebbah  do  dat,  I  know! 

164 


THE  KINGDOM  GATE 

De  greenhohn  angels  is  de  be'y  las'  kind 
What 's  detailed  dar  fo'  de  gyard— 
O  bruddah  sinnahs,  what 's  a-stringin'  'long  be 
hind 
You  gwine  to  git  knocked  mighty  hard ! 

But  n'm  mind  de  trouble 

In  de  Chrismus  good  ol'  way! 

An'  da  's  what  we  's  sartinly  workin'  fer  to  do — 

Workin'  by  de  job  an'  de  day. 

Halleluyah!  nuffin'  but  de  solid  goP 

In  de  gate,  and  dey  ain't  no  brass. 

De  lambs  inside  does  n't  cumber  up  de  place— 

Sinnahs!  when  you  comin'  fur  to  pass? 


I 
1 

165 


N 


THE  MOCKINGBIRD 

OW,  is  n't  dat  mockin'-bird  cunnin"? 


Jes'  listen !     He  's  workin'  dat  th'oat 

Like  he  wuz  some  canderdate  runnin' 
For  sheriff,  or  dark  ob  de  coaht ! 

H9H 

Look  at  him,  a-settin5  dar  swingin' 
'Way  out  on  de  eend  ob  de  limb — 
Dat 's  glorified  music  he  's  singin' : 
Some  angel  is  taught  it  to  him. 


,66 


KSKMfrECfl^^ 


'Dat  's  glorified  music  he  's  singin'  " 


B 
SHIPS  FROM  THE  SEA 

To  "Ishmael" 

WITH  a  trembling  hand  she  launched  them 
On  the  ever-shifting  tide, 
And  she  stood  on  the  beach  and  watched  them 

Far  out  on  the  ocean  glide, 
Till  their  shadowy  shrouds  had  mingled 

With  the  mists  they  sailed  to  meet, 
And  the  rainbow-tinted  masses 
Received  her  fairy-fleet. 

ft  \ 

Her  dearest  hopes  were  their  cargo, 

Her  fancy  furnished  the  chart, 
And  to  guide  them  upon  the  voyage 

The  compass  was  her  heart. 
With  their  gossamer  pennants  flying 

And  their  silken  sails  outspread, 
168 


SHIPS  FROM  THE  SEA 

O'er  a  strange,  mysterious  ocean 
The  goblin  vessels  sped. 

When  the  years  had  passed,  she  waited 

On  the  golden  sands  of  the  beach 
That  her  long  expected  flotilla 

Was  never  destined  to  reach ; 
And  she  asked  of  the  murmuring  sea-breeze, 

And  again  of  the  waves  around, 
The  question  often  repeated, 

"Are  my  vessels  homeward  bound?" 

And  there  came  to  her  never  an  answer, 

She  asked  in  vain  of  the  waves — 
And  the  sighing  breezes  swept  past  her 

And  never  an  answer  gave ; 
But  she  patiently  watched  and  waited 

For  the  coming  home  of  her  ships, 
Till  the  bloom  of  her  beauty  had  faded, 

And  the  smile  had  forgotten  her  lips. 
i6g 


SHIPS  FROM  THE  SEA 

At  last,  when  its  fetters  were  broken, 

Her  spirit  fled  over  the  sea, 
In  search  of  her  long-missing  vessels — 

Wherever  these  vessels  might  be. 
In  the  country  of  dreams  and  of  spirits, 

All  wrecked  on  a  treacherous  strand, 
She  found  her  good  ships  and  their  cargo, 

Her  hopes,  buried  deep  in  the  sand. 

Never  we  know  when  we  launch  them 

The  way  that  our  vessels  will  roam, 
Nor  know  we  when  to  expect  them, 

If  ever,  returning  home. 
To  some  they  come  preciously  laden 

From   short  and  from  prosperous   trips, 
But  the  most  of  us  vainly  are  waiting 

For  the  coming  home  of  our  ships. 


170 


UNCLE  CALEB'S  VIEWS 

I  AIN'T  no  hand  for  readin',  so  ob  co'se,  it  Js 
hardly  squar' 
When  bus'ness  comes  to  writin',  for  to  'spect  me 

to  be  dar — 
But  I  kin  tell  repo'tahs  all  de  wisdom  dat  dey 

please, 

'Kase   wisdom   don't   depend   upon   yo'    knowin' 
abycees. 

You  're  one  de  gemmen'  writin'  fo'  de  independent 

press — 
It  ain't  mo'  independent  dan  yo'sef,  sah!     So  I 

guess — 
And  dem  ar  kind  o'  papers  needs  dey  items  bol' 

and  free, 
An'  so  I  sees  de  reason  why  you  's  come  to  talk  wid 

me. 

171 


UNCLE  CALEB'S  VIEWS 

I  allus  tells  my  min'  stret  out,  no  mattah  what  I 

think, 
As  nateral  as  "Thank  you,  sah,"  when  asked  to 

take  a  drink. 
So,  now,   des  ax  me  questions,   an'   I  '11  gib  you 

solid  news 
'Bout  any  kin'  ob  subject  you  is  pleasin'  for  to 

choose 


Dis  trade  of  yours'?     Well,  hit,  sah,  is  a  berry 
gallus-trade, 

Hit 's  dis  a  way  an'  dat  a  way,  accordin'  as  you  's 

i 
paid. 

You    has    to    do   yo'    bus'ness   on    the   profitable 

plan- 
Dey  ain't  no  room  for  conscience  in  a  daily  papah 

man. 

I  knows;  I  swep'  an  office  out  for  more 'a  seben 
years, 

172 


UNCLE  CALEB'S  VIEWS 

An'  mixed  de  paste,  and  sharpened  up  de  aidges  of 

de  shears, 
An'  all  dat  time,  dem  editors,  I  'm  tellin'  you  tor 

shore, 
Was  nebber  men  enough  to  lose  two  bits  upon  de 

floor. 


But  you,  sah !     Laws  a  mussy,  you  's  a  'ception 

to  de  rule— 

I  nebber  seed  no  'potah  yit  so  little  like  a  fool, 
An'  if  you  keeps  a  marchin'  on,  who  knows  but 

what  yo'  course 
Mought  bring  you  up  to  wear  a  unicorn  upon  de 

force w? 

Well,  mash'r,  as  you  say  so,  I  believe  I  will  take 

in 
A  little  ob  de  'rig'nal — see  here,  Johnny,  gib  me 


gin! 


173 


UNCLE  CALEB'S  VIEWS 

Ahoomh !  dat  's  hot  an'  hearty !     When  you  wants 

to  know  some  mo' 
Just  come  to  Uncle  Caleb,  an'  he  '11  gib  it  to  you, 

sho! 


174 


POT-LIQUOR 

POT-LICKAH,  sah,  consound  you, 
Why  don't  you  smell  around  you? 
Be  libely,  now — I  'm  bound  you 

Come  across  'em — 
Dey  's  a  kin'  ob  sensuation 
In  dis  niggah's  copperation, 
Like  a  in'ard  rebbylation 
Ob  a  'possum. 

Come,  go  ahead,  Pot-lickah! 
Dis  ain't  no  time  to  fiickah; 
So  moobe  a  little  quickah 
If  you  please,  sah ! 
Go  in  dat  bresh,  an'  bring  out, 
Or  dribe  de  'possums'  king  out — 
An'  don't  forgit  to  sing  out 

175 


/, ,,  I, 


"Go  in  dat  bresh,  and  dribe  de  'possums'  king  out" 


1 


POT-LIQUOR 

What  you  sees,  sah. 

Kain't  be  eaten? 
By  you,  you  pizen  rebel, 
For  meanness,  straight  an'  lebel, 
I  'clar  de  berry  debble 

Would  be  beaten! 


rm 

Pw 

i 


It 's  gin'ally  de  custom 

To  train  your  dogs  an'  trust  'em 

But  sometimes  you  mus'  bust  'em 

For  dey  own  good — 
An'  so  wid  people  which  has 
Misused  dey  moral  riches : 
Mus'  punish  dem:  not  sich  as 

Nebber  known  good. 


177 


1 


THE  MISSISSIPPI  MIRACLE 

I'S  let  up  on  preachin'.     I 's  truly 
De  Rev'rind  Dick  Wilkins,  D.D.; 
I  know  I  heerd  Gabr'el  a-callin' 

An'  thought  he  was  callin'  on  me: 
"You  Wilkins,  go  preach  me  de  gospel !" 

Dat,  sah,  was  de  way  dat  he  went; 
But  now,  sah,  I 's  mightily  jubous 
'T  was  some  oder  Wilkins  he  meant. 

Yes,  sah,  dat  ar  matter  you  knows  of 

Has  cleaned  me  plumb  out  of  my  grace ! 
What!  ain't  nebber  heard  of  it?     Nebbah'? 

Seed  nobody  in  from  de  place  ? 
Den  set  down  an'  listen;  an'  when,  sah, 

I 's  tol'  you  de  mizable  tale, 
You  '11  'low  dat  religion,  out  ou'  way, 

Is  mighty  low  down  in  the  scale. 

178 


ssssss 


THE  MISSISSIPPI  MIRACLE 

I  started  to  work  wid  good  prospects : 

My  field,  you  mought  call  it,  was  good ; 
I  tried  fur  to  keep  up  de  fences, 

An'  worked  it  de  best  'at  I  could; 
De  site  wuz  n't  much  fur  to  brag  on : 

'T  wus  mos'ly  clay  gullies  an'  sand — 
But  de  craps,  in  de  way  ob  collections, 

Wuz  good  fur  dat  'scription  ob  land. 

Well,  sah,  we  got  up  a  revival, 

To  last  a  consid'able  while, 
An'  'greed,  as  we  's  gwine  fur  to  hab  it, 

'T  wuz  best  fur  to  hab  it  in  style. 
We  started  her  goin'  at  sun-up, 

An'  kep'  her  a-bilin'  till  night, 
When  forty-odd  mo'nahs  wuz  shoutin', 

An'  forty  more  comin'  in  sight. 

Des  den  it  come  into  my  min',  sah, 

To  gib  dem  'ar  niggahs  a  trile; 
An'  so  I  riz  up,  an'  I  says,  sah — 
179 


THE  MISSISSIPPI  MIRACLE 

I  says  with  a  beautiful  smile : 
"My  frien's,  I  'm  a-gwine  to  propose  you 

A  small,  onsignificant  test, 
To  proobe — out  ob  all  ob  de  virtues— 

Which  ob  you  has  Charity  best. 

"Now,  hush  up  a  minnit !     I  tell  you, 

An'  den  you  kin  go  on  an'  shout. 
De  short  ob  de  mattah  is :  Friday 

My  barrel  ob  whiskey  gub  out; 
It  happens,  too,  des  at  dis  moment, 

I  has  n't  de  money  to  buy— 
An'  so  I  propose  to  you-a\\ 

Dat  you  shill  make  up  de  supply. 

"To-morrow  I  '11  hab  me  a  barrel 
A-settin'  out  dar  on  the  bluff ; 

An'  eb'ry  good  Christian  's  expected 
To  fotch  'long  a  pint  o'  good  stuff: 

So  I  '11  git  my  barrel  ob  whiskey, 
An'  you  '11  get  the  feeling  dat  you 
180 


THE  MISSISSIPPI  iMIRACLE 

Is  got  CHARITY  down  till  you  're  ekal 
To  gibbin'  de  debbil  his  due!  " 


Nex'  mohnin'  sah,  dar  wuz  de  barrel ; 

An'  eb'ry  man  fotched  up  a  flask, 
An't  put  de  neck  down  in  de  bunghole, 

An'  emptied  it  into  de  cask. 
I  thought  'at  I  'd  try  how  it  swallowed, 

An'  held  a  gourd  under  the  spout, 
An'  den  gib  a  turn  on  de  fossit— 

When  nuffin  but  WATER  come  out! 


"A  miracle!"  shouted  de  sistahs. 

"A  miracle  nuffin !"  says  I; 
"I  see  froo  de  mattah — it 's  easy 

'To  tell  you  des  how  it  come  by: 
"Each  man  fotched  a  bottle  of  water, 

"An'  thought,  when  the  cask  wuz  complete, 
"By  eb'ry  one  else  bringin*  whiskey, 

"Nobody  would  notice  de  cheat!" 
181 


THE  MISSISSIPPI  MIRACLE 

Dat  sort  o'  broke  up  the  revival — 

An'  raly  I  think  it  wuz  time, 
Wid  all  de  head  brudders  convicted 

Ob  such  a  contemptible  crime ! 
Dey  is  n't  no  good  in  purfeshins; 

Dat 's  one  think  I  hope  'at  you  sees. — 
But,  sah,  it  3s  so  late  I  mus'  leab  you 

To  pick  out  what  moral  you  please. 


Note. — Such  an  incident  as  the  one  above  described  is  said 
to  have  actually  happened  in  a  country  parish  of  France — wine, 
of  course,  having  been  the  subject  matter,  and  no  whiskey 
spoken  of.  In  that  case,  however,  M.  le  Cure  suspected  very 
well  what  would  happen — had  made  the  request  as  a  trap — 
and  had  ready  a  terrible  sermon  on  the  premises,  which  he 
preached  with  great  effect. — I.  R. 


THE    END 


182 


RETURN  C.RCULAT.pN  DEPARTMENT642 


202  Main  Librar 


is  due  brfor.  closina  Mm.  on  th.  lo».  del.  s.omp«l  b.l.w 


nngASSTAMPEDBblOW 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFOKNIA,  BERKELEY 
FORAA  NO.  DD6A,  20m,  1  1  /78        BERKELEY,  CA  94720  ^ 


U.  C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


